The Strongest Shield
by MilkWeed1920
Summary: With fiery passion and a stubborn desire to make her own life, the hidden heir to the House of Brigant carves out a place for herself in post-Revelation Louisiana. In her search for freedom she may just end up forever tied to a force even more stubborn than she... a very tall, blond all the way down, fang-y force.
1. Talk of Titles

_AN: This is the first chapter of the start of a story I originally posted a couple of years ago (under a different name). I took it down because I could see no end… or at least not one I wanted to write. Sookie and Eric are dancing a very sensual tango in my head at the moment. I'd like to capture their passion so with a few fresh ideas, I'd like to start again. I appreciate the support of this wonderful community and look forward to hearing your feedback. _

_Disclaimer: Charleine Harris is a weaver of magic. Everything recognizable is all her. _

Quinn lunged, I parried. Our movements were quick and fluid as we crossed the stone. Bits of hair stuck to my forehead and the back of my neck. The exercise began hours ago and a layer of sweat made my cotton t-shirt uncomfortably heavy.

We were in one of grandfather's recent acquisitions, a castle off of Ireland's West Coast. It was a rough beauty, made of basic gray stone. Beyond a few crumbling walls, the integrity of the structure was sound. The floors were smooth after centuries of foot traffic. The rooms were large and airy. Grandfather intended to restore it to its earlier livability, as a place to conduct business on this plane.

Multiple levels, irregular ceiling heights, twisting stairways and missing steps set the challenge. It had proved itself to be a sound sparing area, better than our regular practice gym. We circled the bare halls before I forced him up a flight of stairs. I gained the upper hand as he was forced to jump a broken step and backpedaled to regain his form.

The second level was as bare as the first. There had been the odd tapestry dating from the 14th century that came with the place, but Grandfather had had them wrapped for his personal collection.

Quinn and I became family when I moved in with Gran at age twelve. I knew his weaknesses. He knew mine. Swordplay became an ever-inventive battle to trip the other up. The only rule was no extras, just natural or in our case supernatural speed and strength. No turning into a tiger. No magic. And messing around in and with his head was a big no, no.

I tripped up and Quinn caught me against the balcony railing, overlooking the entrance hall on the first floor. I saw in his eyes that he thought he had me. He forced my sword to my chest with his weight, but a swift knee to his stomach sent him stumbling a few feet. Before he made at me again I back flipped off the balcony and landed, knees bent against the impact of the stone below.

Quinn growled and vaulted over the banister like a cat, landing in a crouch before me. I lunged hoping to catch him off guard but Quinn spun to the side. In a quick sequence I again lost my footing, tripped over an invisible nothing and landed on my ass. Quinn was quick. With a smile like the Cheshire Cat he had the tip of his blade to my chest before I could react.

A string of curses escaped my lips as I conceded, brushing back the damp hair in my face and looking up at Quinn and his shitty smile. I did not lose regularly.

Lowering his sword and throwing back his head he raised his empty hand and pumped the air a few times. "King of the Castle! I knocked Sorcha Brigant on her _ass_!"

"King of the Castle. Lord of the Universe. Winner of all things possible." I huffed, playfully. "Now don't be a git—give us a hand up."

Still with that grin, he reached down, pulled me up, and threw a sweaty arm over my shoulder. Shrugging out from under his sweaty pit, I grunted with a smirk, "Get off, Beastman. You reek."

"All beast, babe. All beast! You don't smell so sweet yourself, Baby Sister. You don't hear me whining about it." Quinn grinned, knocking into my shoulder with his elbow.

I had to laugh at that, because it was true. I knew I smelled. It had been a good workout. Together we headed into the main hall and stretched out against the wall behind which the main table would have been. I summoned two bottled waters and a couple of apples.

Quinn accepted my offerings with a nod and we were silent for a few breaths. My pulse began to steady and I closed my eyes as I rested my head on the wall.

"You still being stubborn about your plans for when Amelia and I are sexing it up, Baby S?" He asked, through a mouthful of apple. He was baiting me with his word choice.

I kept my eyes closed and responded without even trying to hide my distaste. "Spare me the image of you kids doing the nasty. Your honeymoon is your business."

"Baby S, coitus is natural. You see, when a man loves a woman-"

"Enough. I get it. Got it the first time Gran gave the 'when two people love each other speech.' Got it the second time when Niall gave 'the Fae are a sensual people' speech. She's your mate, say no more."

Quinn laughed. "As your older and therefore more knowledgeable brother by everything but blood, I feel it is my responsibility to give you the facts." I didn't say anything so after a second he continued. "The fae are big on sex, eh?"

"I couldn't look Niall in the eyes for about a week after that chat. I particularly could have gone without the anecdotes from his past." Quinn let out a raucous guffaw as I continued. "Being heir to the House of Brigant comes with too many expectations to have anything more intimate than a common peck on the cheek with a fae male. I'm twenty-three. I don't want to settle for some would-be prince expecting forever."

I untwisted the cap on my water and took a sip as Quinn cleared his throat and not too subtly started, "The prospect of working with your grandfather sounds appealing. More so than say, slumming with humans…"

Snorting, I opened my eyes and lowered my water. Wiping the back of my hand across my mouth I stared at Quinn incredulously. I met the gaze of his purple eyes, silently.

Realization came. "He went to your mother. Nice." I said tersely. "You and Amelia choose to settle, be all responsible and shit. So I should as well, yeah?" Without waiting for a reply I continued. "No." I shook my head firmly. "I will not join Team Brigant. My title is hereditary. At this point it is only a name, without the true weight of responsibility. Niall is an able leader. I have centuries before I must join him."

"I need choice. Jesus, my life to this point has revolved around the old man, my Prince." I spit through my teeth. "I'm only just about to get out. You're my best friend. My brother. You've witnessed me butt heads with him for years. It's time for me to exercise freewill, while I am still able."

I lowered my voice and let my Southern accent come out. "I'm going home."

Quinn bowed his head slightly, exposing his neck in a sign of submission. His speech was soft with apology and very much colored from living in Ireland his whole life. "Mum had me promise. Niall knew you'd at the least hear me." He paused, placing his hand on my knee. "Sorcha, be happy. I don't give a shite what you do to find joy. But surely you recognize this path is a dead end. Temporary. You don't just walk away from blood. Not Niall's blood."

Exhaling softly, I took back control the light that had come through in anger so that I was no longer glowing. I leaned into Quinn's side and allowed him to wrap his arms around me in comfort.

This whole situation was bittersweet. The two people I loved most in the world were getting married. Amelia and Quinn were good together—compliments and I was happy for them. Ridiculously so. The bitter came from the change that their union meant.

Amelia, Quinn, and I had been close friends since Amelia and I were 12 and Quinn was 14. We each had come together trying to understand the weight of family expectation. These past eleven years, we had grown together, becoming family in the truest sense.

Quinn let out a short sigh. I knew he worried about me. This was the first time I'd be without them since we had met after my parents' deaths and my move to Ireland.

"Don't." I said, stopping him from speaking. "Those I love are healthy and well. I have university under my belt, money, smarts, and best of all a firm ass and some truly magnificent knockers. Now stop worrying. If you don't, I'll start to think you can't survive without me. Then I'd be obliged to interrupt you're honeymoon at potentially inopportune moments with lame excuses just to be sure you're okay." I needed to finish rambling. I disliked goodbyes. "Let's head back. Gran promised some fresh bread and jam." I stood and offered a hand to my brother.

"I will always worry about you, Baby S. It's my job. I love you." He said forcing me to met his gaze as he accepted my help up.

"I know, Beastman."


	2. Wheels Up

I kept a studio in Dublin, in the Dockland. It was a single large room with a separate bath at the top of a converted warehouse. The kitchen was separated from the main living space by a half wall fit with a granite countertop and surrounded on both sides by a few stools. Serving as both a mailing address for school and an occasional place to crash, I could move anonymously among the neighborhood's young crowd.

The place was unassuming with rough white walls, dark hardwood floors, and the typical features of an old industrial space—exposed pipes and the like. I particularly enjoyed the wall of tall windows, with its mix of transparent and translucent panes. It had great morning light, cool and bright.

Even after the original panels were replaced with bullet-resistant ones, the large windows were a security risk. Niall insisted I have retractable metal panels and wards installed. I would say that it was now more secure than Fort Knox.

The place was outfitted with pieces largely skimmed from Niall's storerooms. Two easy chairs and a chaise longue were arranged in a corner around a small table and set of tall bookcases. The chaise longue was white with a blue toile du jouy pattern, while the twin easy chairs were big, modern, and lavender.

My bed, a traditional dark wooden frame with a heavy white canopy, stood against the wall opposite the windows and next to a matching wardrobe. An antique writing desk looked out at the waterfront and beat any study carrels at university. Since acquiring the place, I had come to rely on the quiet, the lack of distraction, and the open air.

I was clearing out the fridge when I felt his call. The wedding had been the day before and Amelia and Quinn were already off. I had spent the night in the Docklands and my flight to the U.S. was in six hours.

Standing from a crouch, I cracked my neck and tossed a partially empty carton of bad eggs into the trash. Niall could track time across worlds. I had assumed that he would summon me closer to takeoff and I'd miss my flight. He was being generous.

With a mental command, I switched playlists, selecting some pregame tunes to get me in the mood to play politics. For as long as he was my Prince, I was obliged to attend him. Quinn was right. There would be no permanent escape.

I ended up brushing my teeth as I picked an outfit. Niall had little patience for those who did not immediately attend his command.

I chose a long sleeve, silk dress with a scoop neck in a blue that played up my eyes. It flowed nicely and allowed easy movement. With the addition of a simple gold diadem crafted by one of Niall's goldsmiths, I slipped on uncomfortable heels and was ready to go.

Forgoing makeup and letting my hair hang, I transported myself to Faery, arriving in the reception area off of Niall's throne room. It was considered improper, even for me, to pop in directly. My arrival had to be announced; even though Niall would, of course know the moment I arrived.

"Highness." Birgit, a young fae woman, said and greeted my appearance with a curtsy. She straightened and ushered me into the wide archway that lead into the throne room. The public areas of the palace had no doors. A spell achieved any privacy Niall may want while in public.

Entering the hall, I recognized the presence of the Elfish Ambassador. Sim'on The North Keeper was tall, sinewy and well respected throughout Faery. He had protected the Elfish territories in the North for over five hundred years, taking the hereditary position from his father when he was sent to the Summerland.

I stood silently at the entrance of the hall as Sim'on finished his request for royal assistance. The elves were skirmishing on the border territories against a growing coalition of water sprites. Niall held no love for the water affiliated so Sim'on left after a promise of assistance from a handful of Niall's top fighters.

The North Keeper tipped his head gracefully as he passed, which I was able to return with a genuine smile. I liked the elf. He had a good soul. Approaching the throne, I executed a deep bow. Several minutes passed silently before Niall made any move.

When he did, it was to dismiss everyone with a wave of his hand. Everyone except me, the granddaughter waiting for permission to rise from a state of deference. Surreptitiously glancing up, I watched him lower his head. With his elbows perched on the arms of his throne, he touched his fingertips together.

He would never vocalize his displeasure with me publicly; to do so would encourage rumors of discord between the throne and the heir apparent. Earth was mine, Faery was his. Under his roof, in his world, I would be deferential. Now was an exercise in knowing my place. He was my Prince and if he wanted me to genuflect then that was exactly what I would do.

'You will attend to the skirmishes in the North and led my fighters.' He thought after nearly a quarter of an hour of blocking me. He had thought it, not said it aloud. I could refuse. No ears were privy to our conversation.

'I am unable to comply with your wish at this time, My Prince. I respectfully remind you of our agreement.' I sent back in a soft, but firm tenor. He had agreed to allow me to return to Louisiana. Niall never reneged on a promise. To do so would be tantamount to lying, something the fae could not do. However, that would not stop him from trying one last time to persuade me not to leave.

Again, Niall closed off his thoughts and I was met with silence. Finally, after another few minutes, he rose and motioned for me to do the same. Brigit was called and instructed to set a place for me for lunch. For the next hour I fought impatience and tried not to focus on being stuck in a stiff chair.

As a small child I had entertained myself by following the minds around the palace. It was certainly educational, that is until my mom noticed what I was doing and chastised me for invading the privacy of others.

"Your Godmother, Commander Crane has been instructed to contact you within the month regarding your continued training regimen." Niall said, at the end of our silent meal, apparently deciding to ignore his previous attempt to get me to stay.

"I have provided a car for you. The demon lawyer, Cataliades will meet you upon your arrival in New Orleans with the keys and other documents required by the humans." Niall dabbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin and stood to leave. "Travel safe, Child."

'Thank you, Grandfather.' I thought softly, touching his cheek as he stood over me and kissed my forehead. I knew he cared for me. At times, I even suspected that he appreciated my independent streak, not that he would ever acknowledge it.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

I arrived at Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport after two layovers and eighteen hours of travel. With the time difference it was just after two in the afternoon and I was running on fumes. I appreciated that duel citizenship meant a smaller line at Customs, although I still I had to wait for my bags at the carousel.

Originally, I had thought to bring only a small carry-on and use my fae talents to transport the rest of my stuff to Bon Temps. Then I realized it might appear odd to arrive on a one-way ticket with no baggage. I collected my duffle bag and hard-side rolling suitcase and made my way out to the arrivals gate, where I immediately recognized Cataliades.

The always impeccably dressed semi-demon, held a discreet sign reading 'Stackhouse.' My surname was never legally changed in the human world. Niall had insisted I take his name after the deaths of my parents, for protection he claimed. However, I knew it was truly a superiority thing. In his mind, his sole heir would carry the name of his house, not the name of a shifter.

Dad had been a true Shifter, a mechanic, and the owner of a motorcycle shop in the small town of Bon Temps. Like I was now, mom, Niall's only child, had been drawn there. One day when she was a little older than me, very young for an almost full fairy she'd struck out on her own to explore more of the human world. She was traveling around the State's a bit, a gap-year(s) of sorts before joining the family business.

Cutting through Bon Temps, Mom experienced bike trouble and pulled into Merlotte's Bar to check it out. Dad had been inside, having a beer with some friends when he saw her pull up. She was beautiful. The most beautiful creature he had ever seen.

The way mom tells the story she could have fixed the bike up herself in no time—even without the help of a little magic. She was independent and more than capable of taking care of herself, but she couldn't help but accept his kind offer of assistance. Everyone, no matter his or her ability likes to be taken care of every now and again.

She thought dad was sweet. The way he had tried to calmly walk over and offer his help. He had no idea about her special little quirk, of which I inherited. She was a telepath and she found his thoughts sincere, lustful, and showing a good heart. They both agreed that something had pulsed between them, drawing them together. Dad bought her a gin and tonic and as they say there is no escaping fate.

Dad had been a respected son of the community. He had had a big heart and what with his mess of curly light brown hair and blue eyes he'd been very much missed in the dating scene once my mom scooped him up. At least that's what I had heard in a few thoughts years ago.

For Bon Temp, Mom had been a bit exotic, what with her natural long blond hair, blue eyes, and lilt of an Irish accent. She could entrance an entire room with a smile, the star of legends. And stubborn as hell.

Niall frequently reminds me I've inherited more than just physical coloring and telepathy in that regard. That comment, I took in stride, recognizing the source. The Prince had spent centuries perfecting his poker face and he rarely accepted things any way but his own.

Except in this, this move was for me. I had gone against his wishes and postponed becoming a part of the political machine. I needed a sabbatical, a chance to be Sookie Stackhouse again, for a while, at least. Home was calling. I would accept responsibility eventually.

"Good Afternoon, Princess." Cataliades greeted with a slight tip of his head and a smile.

"Cataliades, you know to call me Sookie. Thank you for meeting me." I smiled widely and went in for a hug. He had been very helpful organizing my documents.

"It is good to see you, My Dear." He returned my embrace and moved to grab hold of my luggage.

I smiled my thanks and followed him out to where a Mercedes was idling at the curb. An energetic demon jumped, as in actually jumped, out of the driver's seat. She wore a very bright and crazy mix of color. She skipped over to us.

"Sookie, allow me to introduce you to my niece, Diantha. Diantha this is Her Royal Highness, Princess Sorcha Brigant." Cataliades announced formally.

"Just Sookie." I said, sticking out my hand to shake hers.

"WonderfultomeetchaSookie." Diantha spewed. I was surprised by the speed with which she spoke and couldn't help but smile as we shook hands.

After Diantha passed me the keys, she was off off to the airport's parking structure to pick up her uncle's car.

"As per the Prince's instructions. I have made all the necessary arrangements for your new Mercedes SL550 Roadster, with black leather interior and Diamond White Metallic exterior. The tank is full and your registration and insurance information is in the glove compartment. The GPS has been programed with the address of your farmhouse. If you run into any difficulty contact my office and I will deal with it directly."

"Thank you, Cataliades." I appreciated his assistance.

"It is an approximately six hour drive to Bon Temps. May I suggest you spend the night in New Orleans? I took the liberty of making a reservation at the Windsor Court Hotel. Located in the heart of the city, the hotel would allow you the opportunity to freshen up and rest. After so many years, it may be better to arrive at the farmhouse with full daylight."

I couldn't help but agree with his logic. In all honesty, I was in a hurry to get home, but I didn't relish the idea of being stuck in a car so soon after getting off a plane. A bath sounded appealing, as did a real bed.

Cataliades took my wide smile for a yes.

"You will find Windsor Court programmed in your GPS. Your reservation is under Sookie Stackhouse." Cataliades issued a final goodbye and got into the car that Diantha drove up.

I was almost home.

_This chapter served to give a little background. Eric should be making an appearance sooner rather than later. THANK YOU for REVIEWING, FAVORITE-ING, ALERTING. You interest and acknowledgements made me smile—REAL BIG._


	3. Blue Eyes

After a lap around the parking garage to get a hang of the car, I braved regular traffic, remembering of course to stay on the right side of the road. I reached the hotel within twenty-five minutes. Pulling up out front, a bellhop snagged the luggage from my trunk, while I handed my keys over to the valet. Their obviously practiced routine was definitely efficient. Walking into the Windsor, I noticed I was underdressed in jeans, an old hoodie, and sandals.

Check-in was a non-issue. I confirmed some information and turned down the Penthouse Cataliades reserved. I didn't need a suite with the square footage of a small house, two bedrooms, a library, or a baby grand.

When I got to my suite, I took a minute to call Gran but got her answering machine. She was probably with some of her friends playing bridge. As I did a quick tour of the suite, I admired the sweet view of the city skyline and the Mississippi River from the balcony.

The suite came with an iPod dock so I set up some tunes and ordered room service. I requested it be sent up in an hour and took the opportunity to wash up. As the tub filled I riffled through my bag for rose perfumed bath salts. I had thrown it into my suitcase at the last minute, thinking I would appreciate relaxing with a familiar scent if the move overwhelmed me.

Letting the salts melt and the tub stand, I took a quick shower in the adjacent stall to wash off the grime of travel. I finished rinsing off and slipped into the hot bath. Resting back, I closed my eyes and let the strain of travel ease from my limbs, surrounded by the scent of rose and the music of jazz bassist Charles Mingus.

Dinner arrived while I was in the tub. When I got out, I had no problem clearing my plate. I was still in a fluffy bathrobe with my hair wrapped in a towel when I crawled into bed. With the comforts of a full belly and clean body I was able to fall asleep in seconds.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

The sky was black when I next opened my eyes. Groggily, I stumbled to the bathroom. On the way to the marble wonderland I glanced at the clock on the bedside table. Noting the time, I realized I had managed ten hours of sleep.

On the way back from the bathroom, I grabbed a glass of water and wandered over to the sofa, tuning into a vampire newscast. I watched for about twenty minutes until a segment started up about a waterskiing squirrel. At that point, I decided I wanted to stretch my legs and checkout the fitness center.

The gym was well outfitted and empty of any other guests. I grabbed a treadmill and turned on my iPod. I decided to catch up on a few podcasts instead of music. I was a fan of a weekly American news quiz show. I had been turned onto it a few years back. The panelists were pretty hilarious. The radio show was a fun way to keep up with American news trivia. I ended up cooling down after a full program and a half.

On the way back to my room I caught the strains of flamenco guitar. Its beautiful sound reminded me of a past trip to Seville with an old boyfriend. Wanting to hear more, I moved forward, stopping not far from a public area of the hotel called the Cocktail Bar. The brochure in my room had said the Bar had a dress code. I was sweaty and my current outfit certainly wouldn't meet their standards.

I didn't want to risk running up to room to change in case the performance was ending soon, so I moved over to a nondescript corner and continued to listen. A quick inventory of the minds in the room showed a mix of supernatural and human. Unsurprisingly, based on his skill, the guitarist was a vampire.

I hadn't realized that the hotel had vampire-safe rooms. Staying under the same roof with vampires could be an issue for a normal fae. I was different.

Niall could mask his scent completely. As a half-blood shifter, I wasn't able to shift, but Dad's blood interacted with Brigant blood in such a way that I had the ability to manipulate my scent. Like the dials on a sound mixer, I could turn up and down, on and off the scents attached with my mixed pedigree.

I largely chose to smell human when on Earth. Like my mental shield, keeping unwanted thoughts out of my head, the ability to maintain a human scent was second nature. Most in the supernatural world would smell a human and classify them as not a threat. Smelling human was a defense mechanism that helped me blend. At the moment, I was just a sweaty human in a corner, appreciating good flamenco guitar.

The set progressed and I settled comfortably against the wall. I was moved from my spot on the wall during a particularly sober movement. Two vampire minds had left the Bar and were coming my way.

They were blond and both occupied with their cellphones. The female was decked out in a leather peplum top and pencil skirt, both were magenta. Her hair was pulled up into a bouffant and a high ponytail. Her thumbs were moving unnaturally fast and she looked bored out of her mind.

Her male companion was tall, at least 6'5'' and had long hair that was pulled back in a low hanging ponytail. He was very good-looking, even with that scowl. I didn't want to stop admiring the way his black leather jacket fit across his broad shoulders and the way he moved in those black jeans. Damn he was attractive.

Blue eyes shot up from his phone to meet mine. I couldn't stop the blush in my cheeks at being caught checking him out. His scowl turned to a smirk and my girly bits inadvertently warmed. He took in my appearance and his smirk turned cocky.

That cockiness made me remember myself. Pushing aside my embarrassment, I pulled my shoulders back and met his gaze square on. Then I remembered myself and adverted my eyes. It would be best if I didn't challenge a vampire on my first night in the country. The moment lasted seconds and neither broke their stride. I stopped myself from admiring the view from the back and went for a cold shower.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

Jace Everett was on the radio, traffic on the highway was light, my window was down and the warmth of the June afternoon had me smiling. Taking the exit into town, I was able to manage the familiar roads with ease. It's a funny thing when you revisit childhood haunts as an adult and things you thought you forgot immediately come back. From the few storefronts it seemed not much had changed in Bon Temps over the years. I was on my way home.

Cutting across town, I eventually made the turn off down Hummingbird Lane. As I got closer to the old farmhouse I started to feel both excited and anxious. It was a bumpy road, quite literally. Potholes needed to be filled.

I was numb when I left, caught in the loss of my parents. Leaving had been rushed and I had barely been allowed to stay for their funeral. As Niall sought the ones responsible for their deaths, I was taken to live with Gran. Now, I was back and it would be good to be around Uncle Sam and Cousin Jason. Sam was my dad's cousin and Jason was his son, they were both shifters.

Gran lived in Ireland. Her home was full of love and support, but I'd never felt any strong attachment to the area. Adele Hale was the strongest woman I knew, my rock. It took a lot of energy to raise a child and I tried not to give her too much trouble.

I had been toying with the idea of returning for a while. Quinn and Amelia's wedding and departure provided a perfect excuse. I wanted to be back at the ol' Stackhouse homestead. I was drawn to the place. Dad said the desire to be here was in the blood of every Stackhouse. I'd missed home.

The gravel crunched as I made my way down the drive. Everything seemed unchanged, except for a few telltale signs of age. The grounds weren't completely overrun. It looked like someone had been looking after the place, probably Uncle Sam.

Retrieving my bags from the back, I made my way up to the house. The Louisiana warmth was a stark contrast to the cooler Irish air I'd become accustomed. When I first got off the plane the day before, the sun had seemed to reach in and brighten my very insides. When my skin met the heat and the light I knew it had been the right decision to come back.

Looking at the exterior of the house, I smiled as memories flooded back. I used to love to swing on the porch and listen to mom sing and weave tales of Faery, Grandfather, and Gran as she played with my hair. I hadn't missed her touch so much in so long.

I give Uncle Sam a call about a month ago that I would be coming back, but I hadn't given specifics. I needed some time and space to reacquaint myself with my old home. I wanted to make sure I could handle being back before I faced anyone.

I knew that in the minds of everyone in town, I was the kid returning from that foreign country. I had those strange grandparents no one had ever met until they had swooped her up and taken her away after her poor parents' tragic deaths. Their assassination by water fae had been covered up by a story about a flash flood and a washed out bridge.

Gossip I could handle, a bit of curiosity I understood, but I refused to accept pity. I didn't need it. I was healthy and more than capable of taking care of myself. I had a family who I loved and could rely on for anything. I had much more than most, I reasoned.

The backdoor didn't as much as squeaked as I unlocked it and pushed it open. I had thought I might need to pick up some oil at a hardware store. Jingling my keys in one hand and hoisting a bag over my shoulder I walked in. I had been carrying the key to that backdoor with me since the day I left, as a source of comfort. I knew I would come home.

I moved through the house, facing memories of my parents everywhere. Various companies had been called—water, electricity, and the like had all been turned on. The house would need some work to bring it into this decade, but it would be livable after a good clean. The furniture and other things of little sentimental value had been donated. I was glad for this, it meant a fresh start in the place I loved.

After a basic scrub down of the kitchen, master bedroom, and master bath I realized I was hungry. I didn't want to grocery shop, plus I didn't have any dishes or cups. I decided to hop in the shower then head over to Merlotte's.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

The tree-lined streets were familiar even at night. As I got closer to the bar it was easy to see that the place was doing a steady business. The parking lot was nearly full. I pulled into a spot and tightened my mental shield as I walked towards the entrance.

Pulling open the door, I immediately saw Sam at the end of the bar. He was talking to an obviously drunk middle-aged woman slumped on a stool. Sam looked annoyed and didn't look up as I sat down at the bar.

He filled a waitress's order then moved towards me. I was surprised he hadn't recognized me yet. Granted he hadn't seen me in years, but still we were kin. Couldn't the man smell family when it walked into his bar? I smiled and waited for him to look up.

Before Sam reached me someone placed a hand on my shoulder and started to speak. The man had the mind of a shifter and I turned to see my own cousin feeding me a line. I smiled wide and jumped up to give him a big hug. Jason was taken a back a bit, his mind reeled as he tried to figure out what he'd said to prompt this response.

He'd been 17 when I'd left and even then he had a reputation of being a real Lothario. More of a lover than a fighter as he put it. His animal of choice was a panther. He always said he enjoyed their power, speed, and of course 'sex appeal.'

"Jason Merlotte, don't feed me any of your lines. Give me a hug. Gosh, I've missed you." I laughed, my accent turning more Southern than it had been just this morning. I pulled away to look him in the face.

"Sookie?!... It is you! Shit, it's good to see you." He squeezed me tight, recognition mixed in with a big silly smile on his face.

"How you been? Let me grab you a drink." Jason called over to his dad, "Old Man! Look what the wind blew in, she'll have a…?"

I ignored Jason's question and smiled like a loon across the bar. "Uncle Sam!"

Sam pushed aside the beer he was filling and rushed around the counter, engulfing me in a hug. I'd forgot how warm his hugs were. He spun me around like he had when I was a kid.

"Sookie Stackhouse, it does a heart good to see you!" He gave me another big hug then wrapped his arm around my shoulder and called over to his son to grab me 'a damn drink' himself.

He pulled me into a booth, after happily shouting to the cook, Lafayette, to "Get my niece a burger, will yeah?"

We chatted as I ate. By the time the burger was gone I pointed out to Sam that it must be bad for business to just be running his tongue with me when the bar was getting backed up. He laughed, gave my cheek a quick peck and went back to work.

Up until this point, I thought I'd gone unnoticed. I was wrong. As soon as Sam got up Mrs. Fortenberry came over and gave me a big hug and started with the questioning. She was getting on in years. I was surprised she was up and about so late.

I smiled remembering how Mom had once said this woman could talk the Devil himself into adjusting the thermostat.

She wanted to know all about me, where'd I'd been, what I'd been up to, had I found myself one of those European hunks like she'd seen on the T.V. She needed to have enough gossip to feed the town for the next couple weeks. She assured me everyone would be thrilled to have me home.

Politely, I tried to interrupt her constant chatter and give a couple answers, hoping that would calm her down, but to little avail.

"It's good to see you, Mrs. Fortenberry. I'm happy to be back. I finished up school and felt it was time to move back for a while. My grandparents are fine, thank you for asking." I finally got in.

Soon I was surrounded by a group of other women, some of which I recognized. They each gave me a quick hug and expressed how happy they were to see me. After about an hours of being at the center of attention and trying but not succeeding to get out from under their probing eye I sent out a desperate plea to Jason, which may have been a bit terse, 'Help me. Can't you see I'm dying here.'

I watched as Jason jumped a little in surprise and turned away from what he thought to be a potential conquest and looked at me questioningly, 'Sook? How you in my mind?' He agitatedly, thought back.

'Jesus, Jason. Don't you remember anything from when we were young—I just can. Now get your ass over here and give me an out. You aren't going to score anyways, you're not her type.'

'What do you mean I ain't her type?' He demanded, ignoring my plea. He couldn't believe there was a woman alive who thought he wasn't her type.

'She prefers women. Help me.' I mentally shouted at him in exasperation. I continued to try to move towards the door, but someone, mostly Mrs. Fortenberry kept pulling me back into the conversation.

'You sure? Well, hell. I spent a good twenty minutes with her, thought I was getting somewhere… Ok, ok, Sookie stop throwing a hissy. I'll be over in a sec.'

Five minutes later, Jason sauntered over. He used a bit of charm on the older ladies. In that moment I learned that one or two of these ladies had a few wild fantasies concerning my cousin. A couple minutes later he got us out from under their clutches and I relaxed.

"Thanks." I mumbled. Walking over to Uncle Sam, I gave him a hug.

"Stop by for breakfast tomorrow. Bet your kitchen's empty and now Mrs. Fortenberry seems to knows more about my own niece than I do." He chuckled, putting down the rag he was using to wipe up spilled beer.

"Thanks! That would be perfect. I want to hear more about you and Jason too. Oh by the way I'm looking for a job. Need another set of hands?"

"I do, actually. One of my waitresses just had a baby. She's out for a while and I haven't had any luck finding a sub. Got any experience?"

"Some bartending at a friend's pub." I answered with a shrug.

"That'll do. I'm sure you'll pick up the feel of things real quick. When can you start?"

"Tomorrow?" I suggested. He looked like he was struggling to cover everything tonight. Plus, I wanted to have something social to do other than clean.

"Tomorrow. We can drive over here together and we'll get you started on the lunch shift. Sound good, Cher?"

"Sounds good." I reached up and planted a kiss on his cheek and said, "Love you, Uncle Sam. See you in the morning."

"Love you. Jason," he called "walk your cousin to her car will ya, it's late. You all set getting home by yourself?" He turned to me.

"I'm good."

Jason walked over and slung his arm around my shoulder before ruffling my hair.

"Man, Sook. Glad you back and all, but you're messing up my style. I think that last one was really into me." He said as we walked outside.

"Sure did. Fancied herself the future 'Mrs. Jason Merlotte.' Where will you be registered? I saw some sweet candlesticks back home—real nice, perfect for a nice _intimate _dinner." I smirked as Jason blanched at the idea.

"So no plans on settling down just yet, Jas?" I questioned innocently.

"Hell no!" He exclaimed, bumping into my shoulder.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"A princess, I guess." He said, more seriously, after a second.

I was a bit startled by his response. I'd been teasing and here he was dripping with sincerity.

"I want what your parents had." He answered. "When I was just a kid, and my mom skipped town I decided I wouldn't settle. Your mom always treated me like her own and the way she looked at your dad, well that was something."

After a brief silence, he squeezed my shoulder and his mood shifted, "But hey, for now I got you here and 'course there's nothing wrong with enjoying the local flavor a bit." He said with a wink and a classic Jason smirk.

I laughed as we made our way to my car.

Jason let out a low whistle.

"Jeez, Sook- that thing yours?" He pointed to my car.

"Yeah." I responded, with an embarrassed shrug.

"It's a beauty. Always thought Bon Temps could use some European flair."

"Germans engineering at it's finest." I finished lamely.

"You're sounding like you're not that into it. If you don't want it, I'd take it."

I laughed.

"No, I love it actually. It's just that, the car's an example of Niall trying to exert control."

I knew Niall thought his kin had a responsibility to be a little flashy, show their obscene wealth, and keep up appearances. He always liked to draw attention to himself and who wouldn't notice a top of the line Mercedes in a place where practicality and affordability ruled supreme.

"What's 'A-e-r' stand for?" He asked, looking at my license plate.

"Just as it sounds, 'Air'. Another example of Grandfather exhibiting our family's special affinities." I smiled. I had to admit it was a cool car and the plate was a cute touch.

"Like I said, it's a beaut." He gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and turned back towards the bar saying, "Love you, Sook. See you at breakfast." He left, eager to make up for lost time with the future 'Mrs. Jason Merlotte.'

The ride back was quiet. I would be spending the night in a sleeping bag. Maybe I'd look into ordering a bed in the morning.

_Thank you, I totally appreciate the reviews! P.S. Happy Birthday to my dearest friend who is a world away. I hope you get to enjoy a big glass of milk and the dessert of your choice. _


	4. Marrying Ketchup

I woke up disoriented and a little sore from sleeping on the floor. The sunlight streaming through the wide windows was blinding. Along with a bed I needed some curtains. Reluctantly I got up and moved towards the bathroom.

It was early. I hadn't planned on heading across the cemetery to Uncle Sam's for another hour so I pulled out my laptop and hooked up my AirCard. I was glad to be able to access Internet through my cell service. I'd get WiFi eventually.

After looking at a few sites, I found some truly divine sounding bed linen. I ordered sheets, a duvet cover, and four pillowcases (two in white, two in a soft grey) all made of 100% Italian Egyptian Cotton Percale. The sheets and duvet cover where the same soft gray and I ordered a woven cotton blanket in white. The white and gray would look good together. I also ordered a down duvet and four pillows.

Now I needed a bed.

Glancing at the time, I checked out from the online store and got ready to go. I had a few minutes before I was expected at Uncle Sam's so I chose to stop by my parents' marker. Their joint headstone read simply, "_Aoife and Corbet, Beloved_."

My parents were forever together in the Summerland, laughing and loving while I carried them here in my heart. Kneeling down on the grass I summoned a sunflower, mom's favorite and laid it down. I stayed a moment and then continued on to Uncle Sam's.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

"In the back. Bacon's on the stove!" Uncle Sam yelled from the kitchen when I knocked on the screen door.

Walking inside the old Merlotte house, I noticed not much had changed around the house. Walking down the main hall, I noted that the biggest change, quite literally was a huge flat screen TV in the living room. Jason was probably responsible for that update.

"Mornin', Uncle Sam." I said, going over and kissing his cheek.

"Set the table will ya, Cher? Just us two today. Jason's still out."

I nodded and set the table and Uncle Sam served up plates for both of us. The smell of food had me salivating. We chatted and laughed through forkfuls. Sam was interested in what I'd been up to in Ireland and roared with laughter as I told him about Quinn and Amelia.

Quinn's mom had been my bodyguard when I first arrived in Ireland, before I was skilled enough to take care of myself. Mama Quinn as I called her was a rare weretiger and a powerful force few in this realm could challenge and live to talk about. She was fierce and a well-respected member of the supernatural community in Europe.

She was my teacher and mentor. I trained under her in a variety of combat and battle styles popular with the supernatural and human worlds. I later learned that she had accepted the position otherwise beneath her because of who I was—the subject of too many rumors within the Supe community. I was grateful to have her guidance.

Her forté was swordsmanship. She was as graceful as she was dangerous. After nearly a decade under her tutelage, I was confident in my ability.

Her son, Quinn and I had been my primary dueling partner. We became fast friends. He became my very protective older brother.

Amelia was a witch. Her maternal family made up one of the strongest covens in Europe.

Her father, Lord Copley Carmichael, was heavily involved in politics in Great Britain. Before their marriage, Lord Carmichael hadn't known Amelia's mother was a witch.

The two fell in love and Amelia's mom couldn't bring herself to tell Copley the truth, fearing rejection. Her fears had been founded. When Amelia was born there had been complications and her mom had died.

Amelia and Copley had a solid, if at times distant father-daughter relationship. Things turned for the worst when Amelia began puberty and began showing certain peculiarities. Copley was distraught. He didn't want any odd gossip about a member of his family affecting his political career, so he sent Amelia to live with her aunt. Lucky for us, her aunt happened to be my Gran's neighbor.

Amelia and I were both new to County Clare and got along easily, like sisters.

I missed my parents and Louisiana. She was struggling with anger at her father, a man who would send his only child away for fear of harming his sensible image.

School with humans was not an option according to Grandfather. He hired several respected supernatural tutors for Amelia, Quinn and I. We studied the traditional subjects as well as several languages. I had a strong propensity for language, picking up new ones easily. My favorite had been Swedish.

Claudine, my Godmother and an elite member of fae society, was my primary tutor in fae matters and certain specialty training. Although, as his heir, Niall did take me aside regularly for private lessons.

Quinn, a full-blooded weretiger had spent the better part of two decades training with his mom. Amelia was a Broadway witch, a name that carried weight all around Europe. I was, well, I was THE Sorcha Brigant. In our minds, as a unit we were untouchable.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

Getting up, I helped Uncle Sam clear the dishes before we headed over to the bar in his truck. He gave me an official tour of the place, pointing out where everything that I might need was kept. Then he went into the back office to call a distributor about some mistake with an order.

I flitted around filling up the salt and peppershakers and marrying ketchups. I liked the busy work. I was dancing around, singing to myself when I sensed another person walk in through the back door and come out to the bar area.

I turned and wiped my hands on my apron to introduce myself.

"Hi! Sookie Stackhouse, pleasure to meet you. Today's my first day." I smiled at the woman. She had long unnaturally red hair and a big smile. I would have to guess that she was in her mid-thirties.

"Nice to meet you as well, Sookie! Name's Arlene. Welcome." She seemed nice enough and she like working for Sam. "You're Sam's niece, right? You've certainly been the talk of the town since you showed up."

We jabbered on for a while getting everything in order before Merlotte's opened for lunch. Mostly the chat focused on Bon Temp and Arlene's kids. She had two, Lisa and Coby. They were the apples of her eye.

She'd been married a couple times, but she hadn't been so lucky in that department. The last one, Rene, I saw from her mind had been physically abusive to her and the kids and now was serving time in prison for that and for the murder of his sister. She had been involved with a vampire and that had not sat well with her older brother.

'Hearing' that angered me. I turned away from Arlene to hide the intensifying blue of my eyes, willing myself to remain calm.

I saw the bruises on Lisa and Coby flash through Arlene's mind and saw some of the damages of her own emotional and physical pain. There was not a being alive or undead that could justify the harming of a child, spouse, or kin in my eyes.

Feeling my temper abate some, I turned to Arlene and gave her a quick hug, sending her strength and quickly explained my behavior with a smile and a "Arlene, I'm so happy to meet you. I know we're going to be great friends."

She was confused by the sudden warmth of my hug, but returned it with a quick embrace and said, "Sure, we are, Hon. Now, help me move this table will you?"

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

Soon it was time to open up. A steady stream of patrons on their lunch breaks came in. Everyone seemed to have a nice story about my mom and dad.

In no time it was five o'clock and Sam shooed me off saying I'd only been here a day and I should have time to settle. Smiling I gave him a quick peck on the cheek and made to leave.

"Hey, Cher, how you getting home? I forgot you came with me." Sam worried as an afterthought, while filling up an order for Jane Bodehouse.

"All set, Uncle Sam. Don't worry about it." I said with a wink.

He just smiled and shook his head and said, "Of course, how could I forget. You're your Mama's daughter. Breakfast's at the same time if you get hungry. Tomorrow both shifts are full so don't worry about coming in. You did good, Cher. I appreciate the help."

"Thanks, Uncle Sam. I'll probably be up tonight cleaning and end up sleeping in tomorrow morning, but maybe I'll stop by for lunch."

I left out the back and popped home, arriving in my bedroom.

Throwing my purse down next to my open suitcase, I stripped and hopped in for a shower. I didn't want to smell like beer and fried food for longer than I had too. I wanted to smell like the human woman I was pretending to be then I'd go shopping.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

GPS got me to a mall and I decided to buy some shorts for work and start outfitting the kitchen and bathroom. It took more time that I would have liked to pick out dishware. Pots and pans were simpler—there was less choice.

On the way home I grabbed a few groceries, nothing that needed to be refrigerated. The fridge was at least twenty-five years old. It hadn't been opened in ten years. I was kind of afraid of what I might find in it… mold? A dead mouse? My imagination was without limits. Instead of dousing it with bleach and plugging it in and hoping for the best, I'd look into buy a new one.

Driving back home, I thought about my grandparent's relationship. It was unconventional, but it worked for them. They loved each other, there was no doubting that, but they did not live together often. Grandfather mostly stayed in Faery and Gran lived in Ireland.

Adele Hale had been a great beauty in her day and unknown to her, a fraction fae. She adored nature and on the weekend, when the twins she was the governess of spent time with their parents, she would often be found walking along the coast.

When she was twenty-three she first met Niall Brigant.

As she tells the story, she had been reading and looked up and saw the most beautiful being she'd ever seen. He introduced himself and requested the pleasure of joining her. She discovered that he had been admiring her from a distance for months before making himself known to her.

He was smitten. It soon became a regular routine of sorts. Each week when Adele would go walking, Niall would join her. Months went by in this fashion. They would sit and chat or read, enjoying each other's company.

Gran knew all along she says, that Niall was of the Sidhe, the fairies in the stories. How could he not be she argued? She was honored to have this kind soul's attention. Soon they began a romantic relationship and as Gran put it she was ruined for all other men. She only had eyes for Niall.

Within a year, Aoife was born.

Once the pregnancy was known Niall purchased a house for Adele and his child to live in County Clare. Adele had been an only child and both of her parents had passed so she had no family obligations keeping her in Wales. She resigned from her post as governess and started her new life.

Together they raised Aoife, each tending to a different aspect of her growth.

They cared deeply for each other, but decided that as Niall was immortal, they should continue as partners with regards to caring for their growing daughter, but not marry.

Today, Gran was seventy-two and could pass for a woman twenty years her junior, probably a result of her fae blood. She's a woman without regret. She had everything that she had hoped for on those walks along the cliffs, she says. Family is the greatest gift Niall could have given her.

Adele loved to garden and had begun to dabble in a bit of witchcraft with her neighbor, Ms. Broadway. With a little magic and her own hard work she has one of the most beautiful gardens in all of Ireland. It had appeared in a few regional magazines.

Pulling around the front of the farmhouse, still thinking about gardens, I realized Gran would definitely be dismayed by the overgrowth around the house. Maybe tomorrow I'd stop by a garden center and pick up a few things. It was silly, what with the huge list of things I had to do, to think about something as small as picking up a few potted plants, but whatever.

I parked behind my house and started to lug everything in. After the second trip, I realized this was stupid. I was hungry. Scanning the area for any mental signatures and finding none, I grabbed all of the remaining bags, shut the car door, and ushered everything into the house with a command.

I felt like Mickey Mouse in The Sorcerer's Apprentice, but without the threat of losing control. I bounced up the steps with all the bags levitated around me. With another command everything landed softly in the kitchen.

I had decided to suppress most of my supernatural abilities when I was in Bon Temp, especially those that might leave a trace. I wanted to go unnoticed and appear human. It was not my intention to draw unnecessary attention to myself, but I was hungry. I was a grown woman. The world wouldn't end if I decided to speed up dinner every now and again.

Smiling to myself I ate my store prepared salad with a plastic fork and thought about what to do first. The house was nearly empty. Sam had arranged for everything to be donated to the Salvation Army. He had kept a few boxes full of photos and sentimental things upstairs in the attic, but that was it.

I ended up cleaning until almost dawn. By the time I washed up and crawled into my sleeping bag the first floor was spotless, the dishes were washed and put away and I knew that there was a leak under the kitchen sink and the kitchen would probably have to be redone, there was mold.


	5. Tall Dark and Handsome

_Boom. Boom… Boom. Boom. Boom._

"No." I whined into my pillow.

I'd been asleep for maybe an hour after my marathon night of cleaning. It was too early for visitors. Feeling out with my mind, I identified Jason and a Were at the back door. There was nothing suspect in their thoughts. I was so going to rip Jason a new one.

I forced myself out of my sleeping bag, rustled around my suitcase for a robe and padded barefoot to the persistent banging.

"Yes?" I asked, reaching the door and opening it some.

Jason stepped around me, dropping a peck on my cheek as he went to lean against the counter. The Were didn't move. I looked between the two of them with a confused scowl.

"Got any coffee?" Jason asked, looking around the empty kitchen and scratching his face.

My attention snapped from the Were to my cousin. His mind said that he was serious. "I don't have a coffeemaker."

"Juice, then?" He asked.

"The fridge isn't on. Jas, it's like six in the morning. What do you want?" I asked, unable to hide my scowl. I had to stop myself from putting my hands on my hips that move seemed too junior high for me.

It was at this point that Tall Dark and Handsome spoke. His voice was deep, melodic and for a second I thought of wrapping my arms around his neck and jumping him. With a couple quick blinks, I pushed aside thoughts of sex and accepted the hand he held out to shake. Mmmm, his hands were big, warm, and strong.

"I apologize for the early hour, Ma'am. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alcide Herveaux. I'm a contractor up in Shreveport. Your Uncle Sam asked that I come by and look over your place. I'm sorry for waking you up. I can see now, Jason didn't let you know we were coming. My schedule's tight, but I can come back next week at a more respectable time?"

"No, No. You're here now, Mr. Herveaux. Please come in and call me Sookie. I would appreciate your expertise. I'm anxious to get the house in order." I moved back to welcome the attractive man in.

Jason helped himself to the few food items I had on hand and Alcide and I took a tour of the house. After going through the first floor, second floor, the attic, and circling around the outside of the house, Alcide deemed the house solid.

Wiring needed to be updated and some plumbing should be replaced. There was definitely mold in the kitchen and the bathrooms, all three rooms should be gutted and could be made more efficient. The floors would need to be sanded and refinished. There was probably water damage in one wall based on some stains in the wallpaper and everything should be painted. In the end, we had a list, a very lengthy list.

Alcide agreed to email an estimate the following day and his guys could start immediately after a contract was drawn up. Trusting Sam's recommendation and after doing a sweep of his mind, I knew he wouldn't dick me over. I was comfortable giving him the job.

"Got any muffins?" Jason asked, after Alcide left.

I snorted. "You're a piece of work, Merlotte." I said with a shake of my head. "You come by unannounced at six in the morning with the local pack master and you want me to give you breakfast? I don't have a coffeemaker or a fridge, what makes you think I'd have muffin tins and be baking?"

Without waiting for his response I snapped my fingers and a half dozen muffins appeared on the counter next to him. The snapping was for effect.

Jason's jaw dropped.

"Close your mouth. You'll collect flies." I advised, smiling then and grabbing a muffin.

"How'd you do that?" He finally managed.

"Magic." I said playfully throwing in some jazz hands. Then in a normal voice, "They're from Gran's. She makes them most Sunday mornings. It's tradition and she promised to set aside a few for me each week. Any day but today, I'd probably laugh you out the door." I chewed. "It's like you can sniff food out of thin air."

"You mean to tell me, _these_ here muffins, were made by your Gran? The same Gran that lives in Ireland _this_ morning and you were able to just I don't know, wave your hand and 'snap' here they are?" He asked, indignantly.

"Yes." I nodded. "Technically speaking, I don't have to snap. 'Though most people find it disconcerting—things just appearing with no warning. On T.V. shit happens with a nose wiggle, snapping of fingers, or flick of a wand. I have no designs on being the next Samantha Stevens and I'm not in the habit of carrying a twig so I've gotten in the habit of snapping when around non-fae." I finished with a regular snap of my fingers.

Niall thought it made me weak—pandering to the sensibilities of non-fae folk. I thought it was just good manners not to spook folks unnecessarily.

Jason nodded, but still looked a little dazed.

"Jason, why are you surprised? Almost everyone in our family is a Supe of some sort. You, yourself turn into any animal you want, at will. Stop looking at me like that!"

"Sook. You know I didn't mean it like that. Just surprised, is all. Pass along my thanks to your Gran, will ya?" Jason said, jumping down from his seat on the counter and seeing himself out. Confrontation made him uncomfortable.

I watched him leave and then decided to go brush my teeth, before going back to sleep.

Standing in front of the mirror, toothpaste dribbling down the side of my mouth I looked around the small room. It could be fun picking out new things for the bathrooms. I couldn't say I was a fan of the pink porcelain, even though my mom had picked it out.

Grandfather had taught me that it would not do to be too sentimental about things. Memories should not be tied to a pink toilet. When you were meant to live countless human lifetimes one could not keep everything that had ever been attached to a loved one. If you must, select the most poignant (a piece of jewelry, a picture, a sword) and let the rest go. Memories should be held in the heart, not embodied in every material artifact you ever touched.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

A month later, I was living with Uncle Sam and Jason. Alcide and his crew had had to gut my place. There was widespread mold, lead paint, squirrels had gotten into the wiring, and the roof leaked. There was a lot more damage then originally anticipated and it would better them and for me if I stayed elsewhere.

Tall, Dark, and Handsome promised I could move back into my house in a few days. They had finished laying down a new roof, the wiring and plumbing had been updated, new walls were up, the floors had been sanded and finished, and the outside of the house had been painted. It would be habitable after a good airing out. The fumes needed to dissipate.

Alcide and I had spent a lot of time together in the last month, talking about the renovations and picking out paint, fixtures, appliances, and every other random thing that suddenly needed choosing. We had fun together. He was a good guy. I probably had had more meals with him in the last month then Uncle Sam and Jason put together. It was a constant battle not to fall into bed with him.

Unfortunately, he was pack master. Pack culture necessitated the need to birth full werewolf cubs. I didn't share. And, he thought me human, hardly the right partner for a pack master. So anything we had would be a fling and I didn't need to complicate a perfectly fine working relationship with a fling.

I found a groove that I liked, working at Merlotte's a few times a week and pulling my weight at Uncle Sam's. I pretty much took over kitchen duty. Jason wasn't much good with anything other than a grill and Uncle Sam preferred to save the cooking for his bar, when he was getting paid.

It was good to be home, even though I wasn't actually in my own house. Although, I had to admit I was kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop. Grandfather had yet to send over with my swords or texts. Knowing him, he would just show up one day.

I imagined he would arrive unannounced any day now to complete his white glove inspection. As his blood, Niall believed I was a reflection of himself. If I did not appear to live within a certain standard it reflected poorly on him as if he could not afford to give me the best as my eldest male relative. It was medieval.

Gran was his foil. She believed it was important not to overindulge a child. Like my mother she was not interested in material expressions of superiorities.

The farmhouse would not impress Niall. It was a simple home. At eighteen, I had been given legal control of all of my parents' assets including the farmhouse. Now at twenty-three, I was living my way.

I knew Niall believed he was merely humoring me by 'allowing' me to move here. He could not understand why I would have any interest in this town. He hadn't understood its drawn to my mother either. I respected his opinion in most matters, but on this front I resolved to stay strong. Right now, Bon Temps was the place I most wanted to be and so Bon Temps was where I planned stayed.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

I was home alone, looking for a bedroom set on my computer, when I felt Grandfather arrive on Uncle Sam's porch. I opened the door and bowed with my right fist over my heart in greeting. Niall was particular about decorum, even privately, among family.

The only person I knew who did not show deference to the Prince was Gran and of course my great grandmother, Niall's mother. I straightened from my bow to the Prince and kissed the cheek of my grandfather. Behind him stood three wooden chests.

"Hello, Granddaughter." He responded warmly as I ushered him inside, accepting the chests and sending them into the living room with a command.

"Grandfather, it's good to see you." I spoke truthfully. I was happy to see him. I would just have to expend a certain amount of energy to avoid conflict. I wouldn't be bending to his command tonight. Surely, I had a modicum of free will.

"You look well, Sorcha." He selected an armchair with grace, unbuttoning his suit jack and crossing his legs. I chose the couch across from him.

He had always refused to call me by my nickname and had insisted I be known by my full legal name when I moved to Ireland.

"Grandfather, may I offer you anything to eat or drink?"

"That will not be necessary, Child. I am here to deliver your things and to be sure my granddaughter has everything she requires." He responded elegantly. "You are not at the Stackhouse home. Why?"

"Certain renovations had to be made. I can move back tomorrow."

"Of course." He responded, intertwining his hands in his lap, looking like a man totally at his leisure. "It saddens your grandmother to no end that you have left."

"I am a call away, as are you. I have not abandoned her." I stated, trying to remain calm.

We sat there a moment regarding each other. I tried to appear at ease. After a few moments he spoke, "Sorcha."

"Sookie." I corrected.

"Granddaughter," He said, his eyes flashing a fraction, as if challenging me to correct him again. "I believe I have been reasonable. I have allowed your ideas of living. You have spent the last five years at university. With your intellect and knowledge of our world you must see that now is not the time to flutter about like a sprite, contributing nothing and ignoring your responsibilities to your people—"

"Your people." I cut in, with a hard laugh, having heard this conversation before. "I have not made The Ascent."

He ignored my words, like I was nothing more than a spoiled child asking for more ice cream with her cake. He continued, "Future centuries may allow time in which you may do as you please, setting aside responsibilities. This, however, is not the time and certainly not the place." He added looking around with a certain aversion. "You cannot hide behind a mortal's name. 'Sookie Stackhouse' should never have existed. It was foolish of your mother to agree to your father's wish to remain here. They paid for their foolishness. You will not.

"The political situation between the worlds, the species may be considered unstable at best. As further groups move to become public, it is imperative you accept the truth. You are Sorcha Brigant. Accept this and embrace your role. _Your people_ call out to you for it is your destiny." He finished in a firm tone.

"I do not agree. Such responsibility should not be placed on the shoulders of a twenty-three year old. Not even the mighty Niall accepted his throne at that age. I know of the many dalliances of your youth. You did not take your throne until you were 157, Grandfather. I am not the one to lead at this time. You are Prince, the son of our Goddess. I beseech you, draw upon the wisdom of age and experience and recognize this truth." By this time, I felt I should be wringing my hands in exasperation and begging for release, but I knew I would lose all respect in his eyes if I did.

I was not to show weakness in matters of responsibilities and business. I remained upright and stared defiantly across at him. He remained calm, but for some tightening around his mouth and eyes, signally he was at the end of his patience.

"Age is irrelevant in predestined matters such as these. You possess all of the necessary skills and qualities of a just and brilliant leader. You are Brigant. You are Princess, great granddaughter of our Goddess. Do not attempt to dismiss the Fates by claiming I am of a higher pedigree. You know as I do, there is not a being alive or undead with blood such as yours.

"Only you are connected to the worlds in such as way. In times such as these, you hold the most power. None would be able to face you and live. Sorcha, you are Brigant. Behave as such." Niall looked me directly in the eyes and spoke with slight derision.

He ended his speech by rising and looking down at me with an expression of dismay and possibly disgust. Surely, in his eyes my behavior would be a disappointment. I did not want to reach for my sword, as a Brigant should.

"It is not my time. Why should I accept that I have no choice in this matter?" I asked, steely.

Shaking his head, Niall softened his features and leaning over kissed my forehead. Even though we were both angry, his kissed warmed my heart. He whispered, "Fate waits for no one, Dear One." Then he was gone.


	6. Trickery

Above, cool moonlight streamed through the breaks in the trees. The wet smell of growth and decay picked up tenfold after a brief rain. Breathing steadily, I followed the rough path and hurdled over a fallen tree trunk, kicking up more mud. I was covered in mud and fighting to stay balanced while skirting some sharp rocks.

My muscles contracted and pulled. My arms moved opposite my legs driving me foreword. Running had always been my release.

At this odd hour I could do as I pleased, run as fast as I wanted. It wasn't a full moon, the chances of me running into another being was slim. I ran mostly at night or in the early morning.

A thin layer of sweat glistened on my skin. Sweat trailed down my back and met the top of my running shorts, staining my sports bra. Running at great speeds came naturally to me, but it still required some exertion and consumed energy.

The better shape I was in, the more often I ran, the less draining it was to run at extraordinary speeds. I sometimes thought of running as a game with hurdles and variants caused by weather and individual fatigue.

The night was alive. There was at least one owl and a bunch of bugs. I was floating through a symphony of nocturnal noises. With a show like this, there was no need to pack an iPod.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

Skipping up my back steps, I kicked off my trainers and bent down to peal off my mud stained socks. I grabbed a few sheets of old newspaper from a basket in my kitchen and returned to my wet shoes. Pulling back their tongues I stuffed paper into them so they'd dry.

Back in the kitchen I turned on some music and danced about a little, preparing something to eat. I couldn't stop wiggling my toes. I was glad to be out of the slog. My feet and toes were ridiculously pale and pruney from the rain and mud.

Halfway through heating up a pan of Tuscan vegetable soup, my phone rang. It was Lafayette. The man was a character and I had come to love him dearly. The eccentric chef had singlehandedly become my Louisiana social life, dragging me all over the place.

"Bitch, where you at? You late." His voice sassed, no preamble, no hellos.

"Hey, Laffy." I smiled into the phone, continuing to stir the soup. Seeing as I had no idea what I was late for, I wasn't overly concerned. "Where am I supposed to be, exactly?"

" 'Suse me." He drawled. "My house, Bitch. Yous got forty-five then I comin' for yous. Ain't no party without my baby girl." He hung up without waiting for a response.

A party on a Tuesday night was unexpected. I would have remembered getting that invite. With Lafayette, things often came together suddenly without much planning. He had probably had a lover or two over, then one thing leads to another and it was a party.

His house was relatively isolated and could host a great number of people without drawing much attention from neighbors or the police. In the three months since I had been back in the States, we had had a few good nights at his place. Lots of dancing and drinking mostly, I made an effort to avoid any elements resembling an orgy.

Sex with near strangers was not my thing. I could count the number of people I had had sex with on one hand. I had no interest in needing two, at least not in this half of the decade.

When the soup was heated through, I finished off two bowls and went for a shower. Lafayette would leave his own party. His threats were never idle.

I grabbed a quick shower and got dressed. I chose a lavender bra and panties set, a white tank top with a skull design made of blue poppy flowers, black leather shorts, and black metal studded booties.

I could not have looked less like a proper Southern belle, with dramatic eye make-up and a deep berry lipstick called 'nocturnal.' I dabbed on some perfume and let my hair hang. It would dry wavy.

My clutch was filled with the essentials. I took one last look in the mirror, turned off some lights, locked up and hopped in my car.

Laffy lived way outside the city limits. I could hear the music way before I could see the house.

My main squeeze was in his living room, sandwiched between two men. His face was more made-up than my own and damn did he own it. He shooed away the guy on his right, sending him off to grab a beer and pulled me onto his lap. I couldn't help but laugh as I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him a big peck on the cheek.

"What took you so long, Baby?" Lafayette muttered in my ear, before taking a swig from the drink the guy on his left was milking.

"Baby Girl, that be a motha fuckin' sweet clutch yous got."

I stayed on his lap for a while longer, drinking a beer and having a laugh. I met more of Lafayette's friends. A few were cool, but one was repellent, in the most absolute sense. He was a sleazebag and he was packing, he was also looking to offload some V. He didn't hit my radar until around three in the morning. The presence of V was my cue to leave.

Lafayette had no problem being around that shit, but I did. I accepted recreational drugs were around, but vampire blood was a class of its own. That shit was dangerous—not just in terms of its effects, but mostly its source. Vampires should be avoided at all cost.

I was just about to get into my car when I picked up his arrival. There was a vampire at a party with V, my friend's party. Exhaling, I ran a hand through my hair, straightened up and put on my battle face.

I had to look out for my friend.

Climbing the incline back to the house, I kept track of the vampire, examining his thoughts. He was sure that he had located the main distributor of V in his area. He planned to use whatever means necessary on the distributor to get to the vampire who'd bleed for weak humans.

The vampire had done his homework. He had learned of the type of party Lafayette frequently enjoyed hosting and dressed to draw attention. Gosh, this man had a twisted sense of humor. He planned to enjoy himself.

I walked through the front door, past Lafayette on the couch and into the kitchen to open the backdoor for the vampire. And there he was—my blond from New Orleans, the man with the scowl. Now though, he had a smile that could only be described as sweet.

I did a quick once over of his outfit and bit back a smile. He was wearing spandex. Pink fucking spandex with an aqua swirl down the side and a pink mesh tank top. His outfit was something out of a bad 1980s workout video. But where were legwarmers?

"Evenin', Ma'am." The blond vampire said with a warm Southern accent, his blue eyes open innocently.

It must be dull forever being the tough guy. I liked playing dress up too much to stick with a single character for centuries. If I were in his shoes, investigating some low level dealer on a Tuesday night, I would definitely consider wearing Lycra. Actually, I'd probably go with an animal pelt if the setting was a rumored orgy.

"Hello there." I simpered, twirling a strand of hair around my finger and fluttering my lashes for effect.

His smile widened, and he asked, "May I come in?"

"Password?" I asked after a beat, biting my bottom lip and eye fucking the guy.

His eyes flashed to my mouth, flitted to my neck, and then back to my eyes. "You have a beautiful mouth."

"Well, aren't you just the sweetest thing." I giggled, my eyes going wide, in mock pleasure. I playfully tapped him on the chest and damn if my hand didn't just bounce off of that hard musculature.

"Not really." The vampire responded, still smiling.

I gigged in response, letting my act verge on nauseating. "You know, there isn't really a password. Please come in, ah, Mr…"

"Leif." He supplied and leaned in to brush a piece of hair behind my ear, "And you are?"

"I'm Sookie." I whispered, accepting how close his face was to mine.

"Suh-key." He nodded, speaking throatily. He entered the house and did a quick swipe of the surroundings.

"Care for a tour, Leif?" I asked, again fluttering my eyelashes. The vampire's name was Eric and he was Sheriff of Area Five.

Eric took my hand and let me pull him further into the house. He followed close behind, taking everything in. Before we reached the living room, the hub of most of the activities, Eric spun me around and pressed me to him, attacking my lips with his.

His kiss was searing, for a second I forgot we were pretending. Judging by the growing bulge behind his spandex, I figured his dick was taking charge. Then he pulled back and his blues captured mine.

"Take me to the human, Mack Rattray." Eric's voice changed, as he attempted to glamour me.

As long as the vampire's attentions were on the slimy git and not on Lafayette, I had no qualm making the introduction. Vampires were predators. Mess with them and expect retribution.

I allowed my eyes to open blankly. Skimming the minds in the house, I found Rattray leaving Lafayette's spare bedroom. He had just sold V to a party of three and was getting ready to go home to fuck his wife.

I stopped at the edge of the living room, staying on the periphery of the sexual festivities. Rattray was walking towards the front door and ogling a few bare body parts. I nodded in the scum's direction.

The vampire followed my gaze. He took quick inventory of Mack then turned to me and commanded, "Go to the kitchen and stay."

Internally, I snorted. Outwardly, my expression remained blank and I went back to the kitchen. I would be able to follow any action from the other room and I wouldn't have to fend off any grabby hands. I could intervene immediately if the need arose.

Eric glamoured Mack and frogmarched him into the bathroom off the kitchen. The vampire took the cash and stripped the scumbag's mind of any knowledge of his vampire supplier, which wasn't much. Mack had been glamoured before and a lot it seemed. His mind was like holey cheese. Mack was sent packing. Eric ordered him to leave his area.

I stood squarely in the kitchen, idly waiting for the next command. Eric walked past the living room and followed the smell of vampire blood to the ménage à trois. After blowing their high minds with some freaky vampire shit, he confiscated the rest of their V and walked back to the kitchen.

He pulled me back into his arms, "released" me from his glamour and went back to attacking my lips. I bit his lip lightly and broke away with an intentional giggle.

"Oh, Leif." I exhaled, dramatically. "You make me so hot. I wish I could spend more time with you. But…" I frowned, biting my lower lip, again going for the innocent look. "I need to go home. My cat, Tina, she's getting married tomorrow and I need to give her a bath so she'll be pretty for the tom cat next door."

Again, I giggled and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, looking down at the ground.

"Bye, Leif." I leaned up and kissed his cheek before extricating myself and skipping out of the kitchen. I kept up the flighty act until I was in my car. From there I could follow the vampire's movements to make sure he left, which he did almost immediately. He was off to find a willing 'blood bag.'

That brought an unexpected wave of disappointment. I immediately berated myself. A vampire was not a viable bed companion, but man did I need to get laid.

_Another taste of Eric—hope you don't mind I took a few liberties, switched things up a bit. Their future meeting will involve way more than a second long game of tonsil hockey._

_**Thank you so much for the reviews!**__ It's crunch time at the end of my final college semester and reviews are proving to be individual happy pills, each one had made me smile—like a crazy person. _


	7. Stalked Like Prey

I arrived home riding a high. Now would be as good a time as any to unpack the trunks Grandfather had brought. I didn't feel like sleeping anytime soon. I had been meaning to set up the newly finished attic for the past few days.

Flicking the switch for the overhead lights I was momentary blinded. For the moment, everything was asleep. The walls, ceilings and the built-in bookshelves were all painted white, against the smooth hardwood floors.

New light fixtures had been installed and everything was well lit. It was a decent sized area, spanning the length of the house. I was in the process of looking around for a sofa or something, so I'd have a place to read.

I had secured the room with a warded glamour that showed an ordinary attic space to any wayward visitor. Alcide's crew had done the renovations so it wasn't as if the room was top secret. A curious visitor could pick the basic lock and find a library.

I walked over to the trunks in the corner and began gingerly unwrapping various swords and daggers. I couldn't imagine trying to get them through Customs. Most were probably illegal in most states.

I arranged the blades on the walls and wove more glamour so they disappeared. Glamour had the bookshelves filled with an array of fiction and nonfiction, not my actual treasures. No one would be able to penetrate my glamour.

My collection ranged from silver to iron, from simple to intricately wrought. I had no allergy to iron. I had several practice swords, but in a real fight Fragarach would be at my side.

Fragarach, or "The Answerer" was given to me on my eighteenth birthday. It had been a gift from Áine, my great grandmother and Niall's mother. Áine had obtained it when its last owner perished nearly a millennium ago. It had originally been forged for Manannán mac Lir, Lord of the Sea and Áine's father.

Áine the beloved Fairy Queen of Munster is also known to be the Goddess of Healing, Fertility, Protection, Prosperity, and Vitality. She is commonly referred to as the more "approachable" Anu, the Mother Goddess. I found her to be an intimidating force of nature.

Grasping Fragarach, I rose into a fighting stance and became engrossed in fighting my invisible opponent.

Fragarach was a fighter's wet dream, the ultimate weapon. He was able to cut through any shield or wall. He gifted the wielder with the ability to direct the wind and while pressed against an opponent's neck the man becomes unable to lie.

At the moment, I was afraid for what the future would bring. I didn't really know what I wanted, but could not fully accept that which was expected of me. I did, however, accept and recognize Fragarach as the beautiful creation of the Gods that he was and I was honored to be his chosen Mistress.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

I woke to the sound of heavy rain and groaned. I had been asleep for maybe an hour and there was another two before dawn. I could never sleep properly on nights when it rained. At some point, I usually gave up and went out to rest on the porch for a while. Seeing the rain eased my anxiety.

Like sparks the rain fell—hard and fast. The orange from the porch light overhead cast the shower gold against the night. I lay on the porch swing, lightly swinging my leg back and forth, settling into a relaxed rhythm. With eyes closed I listened to the rain din against the copper roofing. The roof was still copper almost for the sole reason that mom had liked the sound that rain made when it hit.

I took a few strands of hair and began to braid them together. A familiar lullaby came to mind and I started to hum. The lullaby was something my mother had taught me, its familiarity always brought comfort. I settled in and zoned out to my own song.

I wasn't outside long before a noise made me pause a breath. Someone was on the property. It seemed, like a lost little puppy, a vampire had followed me home. I continued to hum softly, making no move to recognize his presence.

He was there, hidden in the shadow of a tree, in the rain, watching me, listening to me. We stayed as we were for a while, observing each other, he of course not knowing I was also studying him.

He stayed rooted in his spot, drenched until almost dawn. I had long stopped humming and just rocked silently, examining the vampire's thoughts.

By following my scent home he had my address, which he had texted to his childe, the sullen blonde from New Orleans. She had gotten my name from property records. More research dug up my relationship to Uncle Sam and a news clipping about my parents' deaths. She had yet to figure out where I had been for the last ten years.

Eric had returned to Shreveport, to his bar, but he hadn't been able to shake a feeling he had about our interaction. Something had bothered him and it was just the blue balls. Instinct had served him well for over one thousand years. He wasn't going to start ignoring it now. He had to know more.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

"Sorcha… Sorcha." She called out to me, lightly touching my shoulder. How'd she get in?

"No." I spoke like a two year old. "Just Sookie. Go away." I mumbled from under the blanket I'd thrown over my head when I realized who it was.

"Sookie, rise and shine. Time to face the glories of a new day, Princess." Claudine sang in a sweet voice. She seemed highly amused.

"Don't wanna." I continued like a child.

"Beautiful, it is after ten. Prince Niall has told me that it is not 'acceptable' for you to go so long without a lesson. It seems my visits shall now become weekly."

"Claudine," I whispered resigned to her presence. "I'm tired." I said rising up to a sitting position and hugging my knees to my chest. I laid my head on my knees, willing the tears not to come. One moment I was dreaming something sweet and now, I was irrationally emotional.

It would seem that a day could not be considered complete without a dose of Prince Niall and a reminder of my obligations beyond tending to Bon Temps' alcohol and food needs.

"Oh, Dear One." She said climbing up next and pulling me to her. For one of the Fae's most revered fighters, her abilities to soothe were unmatched. She had been my mom's best friend.

As a teenager, Claudine would often take me out shopping and was always sharing tales of my mother. We had had a standing appointment back in Ireland for dinner ever Wednesday night. Most nights I would go back to Faery to Claudine's cottage and we would cook, Fae and human delicacies alike.

"I understand you are frustrated and overwhelmed. There have been many burdens placed on your shoulders these past few years." She said stroking my hair. "I know you do not appreciate my saying this as you do not want to acknowledge your situation, but you have nothing to fear. You are ready. You have been trained since birth. Whether by design as in these past ten years or quietly with Aoife." She paused, continuing to stroke my hair. "Do not attempt to outplay destiny. You will only cause yourself harm."

"You are a magnificent leader. Have faith in yourself and those that are here to guide you." She said softly into my hair.

"Why can't I be normal?" I whispered, hearing her words, but resenting them all the same. If I were normal my parents would still be alive.

"What is normal?" She demanded. "Do you presume that these humans you have surrounded yourself with are the sole definition of 'normal'? Something to which you aspire? You are a beautiful creature of the sky and earth. Do not lower yourself in your own eyes."

She allowed me another moment to collect myself, then said, "Now, Álainn, get up. It is time to face the day. You smell like vampire. Go wash up before I am tempted to ask what your time being 'normal' has entailed."

With a small smile I gave Claudine a peck on the check, jumped off the bed, and headed for the bathroom.

"What news from the other realm?" I shouted through the bathroom door, throwing my voice to sound eerie when I say 'other realm'. I could hear Claudine snort. Walking back out with a minty fresh smile, I saw Claudine was still on my bed reading a clothing magazine.

"Well, Claude and I were thinking about going into business together here in the human world." She responded, turning the page of her catalog.

Walking over to my dresser, I picked up a comb and turned back to her.

"And…" I said, waiting for her to elaborate. Running the comb through my hair.

"And, we're thinking of finding a property in the area."

"It's like pulling scales off a dragon…" I mumbled. "What kind of business?" I asked louder.

"Strip club." She said plainly.

"Really, any special reason why?" I asked with surprised, that would not have been my first guess.

"Well you know how fond Claude is of giving a good show. Plus he has never been one to pop away from the opportunity to openly show distain for the attentions of human, while relishing in his supposed superiority all the same. Ever the exhibitionist, my brother. As for myself, I enjoy the challenge of growing a business and there is a market in this area for such as club."

I chuckled, having a hard time picturing the two of them working together. They bickered constantly. Snapping my fingers, I was dressed in a tank top, yoga pants, and some wrap up sandals that molded perfectly to my feet.

"What are you shopping for?" I asked, indicating the catalog with a nod.

"Poles, costumes, props, etc. Maybe we'll make one night mythical creature themed, rock the human's world a bit. Imagine their reaction to a Selkie." She wiggled her eyebrows.

"Yes, I would imagine an Irish 'mythical creature' who sheds their seal skin and becomes human to bed men would get a certain reaction."

Claudine made a surprisingly ladylike snort and then said, "Ready, Princess?"

"Cut the 'princess' crap and prepare to witness greatness, Oh Fearsome Warrior." I said with a wisecrack smile, whipping my hair into a ponytail.

"Yes, My Lady." She winked and then in all seriousness, popped away her catalog and got up off my bed. "Let us begin by reviewing a few texts. There are some things I believe you need to brush up on, especially as the weres prepare to go public. Then we'll move out into the open, I want to be sure Mistress Quinn's teachings aren't getting rusty. When's the last time you had a good sparring match?"

"Quinn, three months ago. The last round wasn't anything to brag about. I got my ass kicked." I couldn't help but laugh and think back to the wedding the following day. Apart from seeing my two favorite people happy and in love they had a damn good cake. I gifted them a rare pair of fae-crafted bracelets, symbolizing commitment and bestowed with a unique protection enchantment that I had created myself, meant to watch over those you love.

The texts largely chronicled the relationship between the fae and other supernatural beings. Very little about the supernatural world wasn't covered in these books. Most information was not common knowledge. Only those of Brigant blood could read the text. I received the set on my thirteenth birthday, as the sole heir to the House of Brigant.

The passages provided insight on the philosophies and histories of each race. There were many secrets within these tombs, which even the oldest of each race may not know. One that I found particularly fascinating was an interview with one of the original shape shifters and truths about their origin.

Five hours later, Claudine finished quizzing me on political maneuverings of the past and current treaties with weres and vampires. Since I was living in Louisiana it was practical to have knowledge of these facts at the front of my mind.

We had moved outside, for the physical aspect of my training. Claudine had assumed the role of my sparing partner when I moved out here. Mama Quinn had responsibilities in Europe and could not be expected to follow me wherever I go now that I am grown and can defend myself.

The next two hours were spent in constant battle. Casting a fairy mist, a thick fog that shielded my property from all prying eyes that were not of fae blood, we fought. I got a small nick below my right shoulder when one of Claudine's movements caught me by surprise. Claudine did not fair as well, but she had a wide smile as we finished and complemented me on my skill.

For the last forty minutes I exercised my fae magic. I was still barely adequate at manipulating and weaving time. This was Niall's expertise and few fae had the ability. I demonstrated the ability at thirteen, unexpectedly during an argument with Niall.

Áine came to my aid so I did not do any real damage, like creating a wrinkle or a rough patching together of the couple of minutes I took command of and affected. Now I could almost effortlessly stop time and freeze those I chose in the moment and replace small periods of time in restricted areas. It was a growing talent, which I was still developing and I tried not to tamper with it often as it had the potential to wreak havoc.

As the sun got higher in the sky, Claudine and I were lounged together. We drank sweet tea without lemons and lounged on the lawn chairs I recently purchased. I was still wearing my workout clothes and looked a bit worst for wear.

The fae mist had receded so if someone were to come to visit they would probably be concerned with my appearance. The sweat on my forehead had dried and had matted some of my hair to my face and back of my neck. The cut on my arm had healed thanks to rather spectacular genes, but there was still the trail of dried blood. Plus the seat of my pants was a bit dusty from when I had tripped.

I'm sure I looked disgusting, but a shower and I'd be back to my regular level of hygiene. I guess my appearance at the moment was really a mark of the energy I've exerted. The fact I had bled was a reminder of a mistake I had made.

"So what do you think?" I asked, nodding my head softly back at my house.

"I've always loved this house. Your mother did, too. It has such an understated beauty. Though she would be sorely disappointed to see the state of the garden. Your Gran too. Forget the human way. Will it into being. It is a disservice to your ancestry both fae and as the granddaughter of Àine." She said looking at me sideways with a smile, trying to a get a rise out of me. I didn't comment.

Our lesson had gone well and she had agreed to sit with me for a bit.

"I've mowed the lawn and bought some potted plants. I don't know what I want this place to look like yet, I know I want lots of color and a mix of flowers that blossom both at night and in the day. I definitely want some morning glories and of course sunflowers. I'm doing this human style. Don't mention Gran in your argument. If anything she would be on my side, you know she has spent decades working to get her garden right and almost always without the magical help of Mistress Broadway or Grandfather. I imagine most of my work will happen in the spring anyways."

"So you will be here then?" She asked.

"Yes. I don't foresee leaving too soon, I want to reestablish roots here." I stated firmly, taking a sip of my sweet tea.

"Niall will not be pleased by that news." She mused. "He assumes—if I may speak honestly, like the rest of your people that this is a stop over with no real longevity." It wasn't just a statement of fact. She was also digging for information, specifically a time frame to probably report back to Niall. Niall had always been good at getting others to do his work.

"I would like to remain here, at least for the time being." I repeated.

"Álainn, it is not uncommon to have doubts. You are a tenacious creature. I understand you believe yourself not to be ready, but running from your insecurity will only cause yourself and other's harm. You cannot run from something that is your very essence." It was another statement. She took a deep drink, emptying her glass.

She stood and popped her glass back into the kitchen. Then bending over she kissed my forehead and whispered before leaving, "Faith, Sookie. Have a little faith."

Standing up I stretched and rolled out the cricks in my neck. Performing a small cleansing spell I removed all trace of fae and the sparring match from the property. Heading inside, I stripped out of my dirtied clothes and started a new load of laundry. I really did not smell that appealing. I doubted even a starved vampire would want to come near me at the moment.

Not interested in making a habit of walking around nude even if I would be able to sense someone in the area, I went to take a bubble bath. As I let the newly installed white porcelain tub with claw feet fill I smiled, thinking of what Claudine had said about Grandfather. I knew his patience was waning, but I couldn't resist feeling a bit of glee that I was doing what I wanted and not following "the plan," as he had outlined it.

He had fully expected me to accept my destiny the moment he presented me with Fragarach. He was furious and sorely disappointed when I had not. It was good I had learned early on how to skirt his temper. I had been able to defend my position in a forceful manner, without raising my voice, and remained standing. Stronger warriors that my eighteen year old self had quaked in their boots at the receiving end of Prince Niall Brigant, of Faery, son of Àine's anger.

University had been the first time that I went against his wishes on a matter beyond a simple exercise of wills. I had desperately wanted to continue my education in the human world, away from private tutors.

It had taken months before I'd received his blessing to go to Cambridge. I finally convinced him that it would be wise for me to explore the human study of politics and international studies. It was my way of placating him on one hand and putting off accepting fate on the other.

Beyond studying, I also wished to get out from under his considerable sized thumb and experience a bit of the world for myself, with Quinn and Amelia, of course.

Gran had been a major ally in this argument. She believed every young person should be able to travel the world and be independent. I was grateful not to be full Fae or else I would probably never have been able to escape, as his heir there was a constant stream of threats. But as I was more powerful and had considerably more potential than a full fae, he couldn't use the argument that I would be in danger outside his world, especially as I was able to blend into human society so easily.

Before starting dinner, I remembered to weave some simple magic to remove any trace of fae from the property. My thoughts flickered to Eric. I wondered if I was going to run into Leif again tonight. If I did, should I risk making the game more interesting?

_Thank you for the love!_


	8. Pieces of the Past

Night fell and I was dressed as Scarlett O'Hara. Disregarding what was smart, I decided to put on a show. If I was going to have an audience, I could entertain. In Scarlett's white ruffled prayer dress with that big skirt, high neck, puffy sleeves, and red belt—I looked hot, in an antebellum kind of way.

I was interested to see how long I could hold his attention and what, if anything would get him to reveal himself. I was a social scientist eager to study a previously unknown test subject… I also figured I could recycle a past Halloween costume or two in the process.

Second year at university, I had gone as Scarlett O'Hara for Halloween. My accent marked me as different from my English peers and it became a point of frequent ribbing. A few smartasses even took to calling me 'Scarlett.' So I went with it and dressed for an evening as the ultimate willful Southern belle.

I couldn't simply stand around in my badass dress waiting for a man. I grabbed a glass of iced tea and went over to lounge on the couch with a book I had picked up at the grocery store. I had went in for food and ended up picking up a particularly colorful looking romance. There was a Viking. I liked the voyager type.

When he arrived, I would move out onto the porch swing and relax. Tonight, my outfit would be conspicuous enough. I didn't need to throw in any additional comedy or great feats of athleticism. Maybe, I'd dress as a monkey and swing from a few trees at some point in the future. That would certainly be a logical combination.

I was more than halfway through my book, when I sensed him. The Viking was beginning to appreciate his conquest for more than her good looks. I refilled my iced tea and sashayed out onto the front porch. My romance was glamoured to look like a family Bible. Every good Southern belle needed a family Bible.

The light from the porch didn't cast a wide net. Eric was securely hidden under his tree, in the shadows. A blonde Scarlett O'Hara gave him pause. His mind was trying to process conflicting images. Was I the easily influenced girl in the tight leather shorts or the one playing dress up?

His investigation thus far had proved disappointing. After glamouring a local, he learned that I was rumored to have lived for the past ten years in Ireland. None of his other lines of inquiry were yielding concrete results. It had been two days. Ordinarily, he would have more than just a rudimentary sketch of a target's background.

As a small child, telepathy had been more of a curse than a gift. With effort I honed the skill and could now turn it off and on at will. I had yet to meet a species whose mind was closed to me. Vampire minds tended to sound like a soft whisper. Human thoughts were amplified. It was as if they were using a bullhorn only I could hear. I could identify each species by the different color and volume of their thought.

Eric Northman was interesting. He had a remarkable thought pattern. I may have been tied to his age. It was different that the other vampires I had come across. Their thoughts reminded me of a barrel of snakes, hard to distinguish on slippery tendril from another. While hardly bright and cheery, Eric's thoughts were logical and clear, devoid of any apparent bloodlust. I imagined his response if he figured out I was intentionally antagonizing him. It would probably get his blood heated.

My cellphone rang from inside. I had left it charging in the kitchen on the new granite countertop. If Eric hadn't been watching, I would have summoned the device. Instead, I actually had to get up and get it.

The screen read, 'Alexei.'

We hadn't spoken in over six months. Our affair had ended. I wasn't expecting his call.

Alexei was Russian and very much human. His father had made his money primarily in oil during the privatization of Soviet assets in the 1990s. As the eldest and only son in a family with five daughters, Alexei was heir apparent to his father's empire.

We understood a certain type of familial pressure. After meeting and hitting it off at a mutual friend's party, we started to hang out. Our respective studies at Cambridge had conveniently overlapped by two years. When I needed a date or wanted casual, I called Alexei.

Our relationship never explored the realm of intimate, beyond that of a carnal nature. Conversation never covered the personal—just some superficial likes and dislikes. It was easiest that way. Alexei was aware that my grandfather owned a pharmaceutical company and that I was being groomed to take his place. He didn't know, however, that barring assassination that would not be happening.

Alexei had a head for making money, but his passion was music. He was a cellist. There was a sonata or two that I think would forever be attached to erotic memories. I loved his private performances.

Our involvement had cooled in the last year. As Alexei's participation in the family business publically increased, he became a fixture in international gossip magazines. He was an attractive, twenty-six year old heir to billions. He possessed quite the curiosity factor.

Casual worked, we worked. That is until I appeared next to him on the cover of a popular European rag. Fortunately, it had been winter. The hood of my parka had hid my face and I had simply been credited as a 'mystery blonde.'

I ended things. I needed to stay under the radar, away from shallow culture of human celebrity. I didn't need my photo being splashed about. I had no interest in becoming 'an heiress' that was fair game to paparazzi. I couldn't afford for humans to follow me around. It was dangerous for them and for me.

"Alexei." I greeted, my pronunciation distinctly Russian.

"Marry me." He commanded in Russian, his voice gruff with an emotion I couldn't recognize immediately.

"I don't speak Russian." I responded in the same language. Alexei was one of the reasons my Russian skills were strong. There was probably no better language tutor than a lover.

"I want you." He said, still not switching languages.

All I could do was laugh. Towards the end of our affair he had professed his love regularly, comfortable knowing I wanted nothing from him. I had access to his thoughts. I knew he knew that I knew he wasn't serious. But of course, he didn't actually know about the mind reading thing.

"I miss you." Alexei pressed on in his native tongue, speaking over my laugh.

"You're too much. Why are you calling me?" I asked in English, still with a smile, but switching languages to signal I wanted a straight answer.

"We had fun, you and I. Our affair met its logical end, but I miss you, Kitten." Alexei spoke in English, his accent pronounced.

He took pride in his roots and took pleasure in his speech being identifiably Russian. Having gone through English boarding schools, his grasp on English was impeccable. However, he was open with his dislike for speaking a language other than Russian. He rarely tried to neutralize his accent and actually enjoyed intentionally butchering English grammar. He could sound like a right toff if he tried.

"Da, we _had_ fun." I agreed, beginning with the Russian affirmative and stressing the past tense.

"I find myself in American South, in town with no hotel." He detailed. I could hear the smile in his voice.

"Alexei." I groaned softly, now understanding immediately the reason behind his call. "Who are you leading to my door?"

Alexei chuckled, "Kitten. Your distrust rivals a Russian."

"Alexei." I warned.

He clicked his tongue in resignation. I knew he was probably rubbing his thumb and middle finger across his forehead. It was a tick he had when he was anxious and let his guard down.

"Story broke. Not good. I take fall. Father say disappear for small time, be discreet while he cleans. Options are Siberia or visit to only friend who lives far from city lights."

His voice was muffled like he was hunched over. Now, I knew for sure that he was rubbing his thumb and middle finger across his forehead.

"Where are you?" A million thoughts raced through my head, prominent among them, beyond concern for my friend, was the vampire in my yard.

"Parking lot of establishment called 'Merlotte's Bar and Grill.' I know Bon Temps, but not address. I thought to ask inside, this being small town, but knew you would not approve."

"Thank goodness for small favors." I muttered. I didn't want to explain a six-foot tall Russian man with an athletic build, brown eyes, and dark brown hair usually kept short. "Hummingbird Lane, drive to the end and pull around back. You can have the guest room for a couple days. You're going to have to find a more permanent place to hide. This is not an open invitation, Alexei. Do you understand me?"

"Da. I understand. Spasibo." Alexei's relief was obvious. I wouldn't turn him away out of respect for our history. Although, I truly did not appreciate the way in which he choose to box me into extending an invitation.

I hung up and went to my room to get out of my costume. I didn't want to explain my getup. I put on some gray leggings and a light sweater. It was just after midnight, I wasn't about to put on real clothes.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

"Extra blankets are in the chest at the foot of the bed. Your bathroom is the one in the hall. Towels and a few basic toiletries are set out. The fridge is full. Help yourself." I summarized, finishing up the tour. "Will you need anything else?"

Alexei had arrived in a Mercedes G500 and immediately pulled me into a hug. He was obviously upset, but I didn't want to relax in his arms knowing Eric was haunting my shadows. I hugged back briefly, glad when he stepped back and presented me a small bag with the name of an expensive jeweler. Alexei may have felt comfortable arriving without a real invitation, but he would never arrive empty handed.

"I don't suppose you brought cello in move?" Alexei asked, deftly pulling out a kitchen chair and taking a seat.

I hadn't, but I could always summon one discreetly and claim I had. Alexei had given me a few lessons on his instrument and I had tried fiddled with one Grandfather had lying around. I hadn't stuck with it though. I preferred being the audience not the performer.

"Make yourself something to eat. I'll grab it from the attic."

When I returned with the cello, Alexei was slumped over the table. The story was obviously something big. I had never seen him upset.

I set down the cello case and walked behind him, rubbing out his shoulders. "You aren't hungry?"

"Net." He sighed gruffly. "My reputation is in ruins, for mistake not my own. Loyalty to father means compromising own integrity. I am uncertain how to proceed from here."

I continued to rub his shoulders, letting him talk. This was exceeding the bounds of our previous relationship. We weren't confidants. I didn't know how best I should comfort Alexei. I decided on silence.

"My face is too well known. I'm like fucking Brad Pitt these days. Constantly hounded." He pounded his fist against the table, for emphasis. "I businessman not fucking celebrity."

I brushed Alexei's cheek with the back of my hand, trying to soothe him. I gave him a sad smile and snorted. "You wish you were as cute as Brad Pitt."

Alexei guffawed, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap. "You think my features lacking, Kitten?"

Alexei was many things, but he was not insecure about his appearance.

"You know I don't, _Cutie Pie_." I smiled, pushing off from his chest and calling him a nickname he disliked. He knew I wasn't a big fan of pet names, but he used 'Kitten' anyways. For his part, Alexei had no probably with a lover giving him a pet name as long as it was exalting his machismo.

'Cutie Pie' growled his distaste, but said nothing. He got up and moved over to inspect the cello. As he did, I took in his fatigued appearance.

His normally spotless uniform—custom three-piece suit and button down shirt were all wrinkled from travel. The tops of his handmade lace up shoes were scuffed. He had a couple days of facial hair going on and steamer trunks under his eyes.

"You have not loved this beautiful instrument in long time. This is sad." Alexei observed, not looking up from the cello as he began to tune it. He had perfect pitch.

"I've been busy with the move. And cello is your passion. Not mine."

"Pity." He said simply. Picking up the bow, he made ready to play by tightening the horsehair and in long strokes applying the rosin that had been in the case.

"Tea?" I offered.

He shook his head, "Vodka?"

Forgetting the kettle, I moved to grab a bottle from the cabinet. Alexei had taught me that vodka must always be room temperature, never cold. Cold masked the flavor.

I poured out two shots and passed one to Alexei.

"Cheers." I toasted, raising the glass, meeting Alexei's gaze and drinking it in one go.

"Za Vas!" He responded, saying a simple Russian toast meaning, 'here's to you.'

I left Alexei in the kitchen with the bottle and a warning about a family of skunks lurking around. He needed to stay inside and I needed to go to bed. If the house caught fire he'd wake me.

I fell asleep to a cello singing an angry sort of sorrow. It was a piece I didn't recognize, probably an original. We would talk more in the morning, if he wanted, over breakfast.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

Rolling over, I was confused for a moment. Blackout curtains kept my room dark, the way I preferred to sleep. For a few seconds, I thought I was waking up in Ireland. I smelled bacon. I rarely woke up to the smell of food unless I was at Gran's.

Fumbling to my bathroom, I did my business, threw on my robe and made my way to the kitchen.

Alexei was standing over my stove. Barefoot, wearing only a loose pair of blue striped sweatpants and a white undershirt. He was flipping blinis.

"Breakfast, Kitten." He said without turning around. "Sit. I serve you."

The table was set. Alexei had made eggs and bacon and cut up some melon. There was also a jar of homemade raspberry preserve set out. I had been gifted from one of the ladies in town.

I followed his direction and sat. Pouring us both a glass of orange juice, I watched Alexei finish up at the stove.

"You have no sour cream." Alexei observed, turning with a triumph grin and presenting the thin pancakes.

"I don't, but you found the jam." I accepted the blini he put on my plate and helped myself to some bacon and eggs.

"Da. Jam."

We ate in companionable silence. Alexei made a good breakfast. The occasional sleepover was at his place since he lived along, while I had shared a flat with Quinn and Amelia at school.

I was on my second blini when he took my free hand in his and squeezed slightly, "Spasibo, Kitten. For not shutting door in my face."

I returned the squeeze. "You are my friend, Alexei. We may no longer be intimate, but I still care for you."

"Your friendship honors me, Sorcha." He said, with a gruff nod. "Now—eat. Blinis are no good cold."

As I ate I took in Alexei's appearance. He looked more human. He had showered and looked like he had gotten some sleep. I wasn't surprised that he was up so early. It was only eight in the morning. Even after a late night with vodka, he could still get up early. The guy needed very little sleep to function.

After we ate, I helped him clean up. Together we cleared the table, rinsed off the dishes and loaded the dishwasher. It was a practiced routine.

"I need a slow cooker. Come to the store with me? I have a fake mustache and a baseball cap. You can push the carriage." I suggested, trying to make the offer sound appealing.

I'd prefer Alexei not stay in my house alone. The glamour on my attic was solid, but there was always a chance someone might stop by uninvited.

"Fine, but no 'stache. Hat is enough." He agreed with a tip of his head.

"Great, meet back here in ten?"

He tipped his head in agreement again and we both went to get dressed.

It was the beginning of September, still summer. I ran a brush through my hair, put on a basic jean cutoffs/t-shirt combo and slipped on some sandals. Grabbing my purse and a pair of aviators, I went to find Alexei already in the kitchen.

Thankfully, he hadn't just brought suits with him. Alexei had on jeans, a t-shirt, and some loafers. He also had a pair of sunglasses. I tossed him a "LSU" baseball hat and we were off.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

By the end of the day, there was more than just a slow cooker in my trunk. Alexei surprised me with his enthusiasm for home goods. He insisted on buying a number of "kitchen essentials" for me as a belated housewarming gift. I couldn't convince him that a couscoussier did not actually fall into the essential category, for me at least.

We hit a few other shops, including a place for Alexei to get running gear. It became clear that Alexei was more engaged in the whole spending money thing than me. I didn't mind shopping with a purpose, I could take or leave the whole leisurely shopping thing.

Back at home, I decided on a quick nap and left Alexei to manage dinner. He had insisted on getting the couscoussier, therefore it was up to him to prove its value. I was actually excited about dinner. We had stopped off for groceries on the way back, picking up couscous, fresh veggies, and some beef.

"Kitten. Up. Up. Time for dinner." I stirred to the sound of Alexei knocking on the frame of my open bedroom door.

"Mmmmm. Be there in a minute." I mumbled into my pillow, flipping over and stretching.

Dinner proved delicious. I knew when I was wrong. The couscoussier was going to revolutionize my life. Alexei had cooked so I took up cleaning duty.

The dishwasher was thumping along and I was wiping down the kitchen table when Alexei came up behind. He placed his hands on my hips and lowered his head, kissing my neck.

I released the sponge and lifted my hand to the top of his head to still his movement, with a soft, "No." I wasn't willing to renew our sexual relationship. We were over.

He dropped his hands and stepped back. Turning around, I looked up at him and he looked down at me. We stood looking at each other for a moment before he dropped his gaze and nodded.

"I'm going to clear head." Alexei spoke, meeting my gaze again. "I will be back later. Okay?"

I nodded. He nodded, grabbed his keys and was gone. I heard his car start and the crunch of gravel and returned to scrubbing the table. I wished I could wash away the last few minutes. Alexei had my address in his GPS. He could find his way back.

I ended up on the couch, with a cup of mint tea and music blaring. My belly was full and I had no big plans for the night. I wasn't sure if I would be having any vampire visitors. In fact, I almost didn't care anymore.

Alexei had thrown me for a loop. I made it a point to stay out of his mind. Nothing in the last twenty-four hours had been overtly sexual. I hadn't sensed that his intentions were romantic. I didn't need to dress up like a monkey and swing from a tree to complicate my immediate life any further.

-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-,'-

It was almost quarter of two and I was still by myself. No vampire. No Alexei. Honestly, I was relieved I didn't have to make a decision on how to act on either front.

My phone rang.

For the second time in as many nights, "Alexei" flashed across my screen.

"Are you ok, Alexei?" I asked in Russian, answering the phone on the third ring.

"Is this Sorcha?" Asked a deep voice, also in Russian, but definitely not Alexei. I could hear the thud of muffled bass in the background.

"Who is this?" I asked, unconsciously sliding back into English. "Where is Alexei?"

"This is Eric Northman. Your Alexei is in need of a ride."

"Explain." If the vampire did anything to Alexei I would have his head.

"Your Alexei is at my bar and has had too much to drink. Legally, I must call him a cab. Regrettably, he shared only your name before passing out." Eric drawled.

The vampire was full of shit. Alexei never got drunk in public. Ever. He also would never willingly go to a vampire bar. He had this need to be the most dominant man in the room.

"I appreciate your call, Mr. Northman. What bar?"

"Fangtasia." Eric said expectantly, obviously looking for a particularly reaction.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Northman, but I'm not familiar with Fangtasia. Where are you located?"

I broke a few laws and made it to Shreveport in less than half an hour. I would have popped over, but I didn't know if this was a trap. If this were a trap then it would be best for me to continue my human charade. The parking lot was impressively full, for a night in the middle of the week.

A quick scan of the area showed nothing to worry about, so I got out of my car and made my way to the front door. There was no line, which a surprise. After meeting Eric Northman at Lafayette's I had looked into him. According to a Shreveport nightlife newspaper, long lines were expected every night of the week at Fangtasia. It was a gold mine.

A vampire, petite with classical features stood statue like by the door. Dead eyes flashed to me from beneath dark lashes. The saying, 'if looks could kill…' seemed fitting. The side of her mouth curled up, exposing fang.

"Fuck off, _human_." She said, her few words venomous. "No entry after two."

If I were human, I would piss my pants. She was seriously threatening, hardly a personality to encourage business.

"Eric Northman called me to pick up a drunk friend." I said softly, attempting to keep my body language meek.

She stared at me, hard, not believing a word. Northman never made those calls. Waitresses dealt with those too stupid or inebriated to care for themselves.

The tall blonde that had been with Northman at the hotel in New Orleans joined us, saving me from having to try and convince the dark haired monster.

"You're the blood bag here for the drunk?" The blonde stated, looking me up and down, clearly not impressed. I hadn't changed from my earlier t-shirt/jean cutoffs combo. The only difference from this morning was I had pulled my hair back to get it out of my face. I hardly looked like the typical barfly.

"Yes." I said, simply, no point arguing with her choice of labels.

She tipped her towards the entrance and spun on her heels, heading back inside. Obviously, I was to follow.

I took in the bar. It was typical of its kind, committed to a theme. All in all, it seemed nice enough. As far as vamp bars go, a scan of the area showed everything was pretty above board. It looked like they were trying to make an effort to follow the mainstreaming trend. This was my third time being in a vampire owned bar, I'd gone to two in Europe with Quinn and Amelia.

Blue accent lights tinged the dark red walls purple. A large bar stood outlined with a string of white lights. The walls held a collection of cult vampire movie posters. Dark booths lined the edge of the room and patrons sat around small round tables that outlined a dance floor. Apart from three striper poles on daises the only thing that draw my attention was a large fur-lined throne on its own dais.

I had to hide my smile as I wondered about the pretentious prick willing to sit in a throne at a bar. What kind of man was Northman? Was it ego or a business ploy?

At this late hour, the bar was filled with only the most diehard of humans. They were all wearing the classic black/metal ensemble and too much eyeliner. A souvenir booth in the corner caught my eye. I would guess that there were some khaki and white sneaker wearing tourists out there walking around with t-shirts advertising, 'the bar with a bite.'

Alexei was hidden, slumped in a corner booth. A scan of his mind proved that he was indeed passed out. It looked like a mix of too much alcohol and glamour for good measure. It was a setup.

I continued to follow the blonde, as she led me down a back hall to Eric's office. The blonde was Pam, Eric's childe and she was annoyed. Eric hadn't been forthcoming with who I was to him.

She knocked quickly and we were instructed to enter.

Eric stood as we entered. I earned a quick glance and then his eyes moved to his childe, who he dismissed with a jerk of his head. She was gone before I could blink, leaving me with Eric.

We silently stood, assessing each other. Our eyes locked for a moment before I spoke, getting to the business at hand.

"Where is my friend, Mr. Northman?"

"Call me Eric." Eric commanded with a smirk, coming out from behind his desk and leaning on its front.

"Eric." I repeated. Vampires didn't shake hands. "Where is Alexei?"

"A booth out front." I nodded my head in thanks and turned to go.

"Wait." He commanded lightly. I turned back and raised my eyebrow slightly in questioning. "There's the matter of the tab. Your friend racked up quite a bill."

"Of course." I nodded. I had no trouble believing Eric. Alexei enjoyed throwing money around and made a habit of purchasing multiple rounds for a full bar. "I'll settle with the bartender on the way out."

This time I got fully to the door before Eric stopped me, planting himself in my way.

"The wedding went well." Eric stated, more than asked. He loomed over me in a way that was meant to intimidate. He was much larger than me, tall and broad.

My lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Yes, sir. Tina and that silly Tom are rrrrreal happy." I lied, exaggerating my accent and batting my eyelashes for effect.

"What are you?" His face was inches from mine. His eyes an icy blue held mine as he tried to glamour me.

I pushed the glamour aside, effortlessly. He already suspected that it had not worked on me the first time.

"I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy…" I smiled sweetly, teasing out the beginning of a quote from _Notting Hill_.

"You are no ordinary 'girl,' just as I am most certainly not 'a boy.' _What_ are you?" His voice was low and demanding. It troubled him that he had not realized I was immune to glamour sooner. A vampire his age should have seen through my act.

I stayed silent, watching him.

"I have given you my name. Human etiquette dictates you do the same. Your name?" He was a statue, unblinking.

"You know my name." I answered matter-of-factly. "You've glamoured the shit out of my friend."

"And you know this how?" He asked, his tone hard.

I had weighed my options before arriving. I could keep up pretenses and continue to deny, deny, deny or I could tell a partial truth in order to manipulate the situation in my favor.

"I'm a telepath. I skimmed Alexei's mind on my way in."

No sooner had the words left my mouth than Eric had me pinned against the wall, his arm against my throat.

"You are in my head?" The vampire probed, enraged, his fangs fully exposed. He thought up a bloody memory, looking to catch me flinch, looking to catch my lie. I had spent a small lifetime ignoring things, horrible things I wasn't supposed to see. And this was not the first time I had witnessed death.

I remembered back to when I was thirteen and I was first introduced to Court.

_I entered the bright hall, with its tall arches, proudly on the arm of Niall. The ceiling made the Sistine Chapel seem ostentatious. It was vibrant with a simplistic beauty. I was in complete awe._

_My first trip to the Palace and I had to put my best efforts into not looking like a fish, with my mouth wide open and eyes bulging. Niall had invited me to sit in while he met and… dealt with his people, OUR people he had corrected me._

_Niall had gently explained that I had had close to a year to adjust to my new home, a year to adjust to Ireland. Now as I was coming of age, thirteen being when a fae's power begins to mature and our spark brightens fully, I was to take my place at Court. _

_Grandfather promised a typical day and I was excited to see were he worked. For at that age, I still was under the impression that his position was something like Amelia's dad's work. A politician, who maybe didn't work nine to five, but certainly had a normal job in the sense that it did not consume his life. _

_I had been dressed in an ivory gown, rich and long to the ground, a purple silk ribbon marking the empire waist. It was a piece of fae haute couture, made for the sole heir to the House of Brigant. Woven into my blond hair had been a diadem of natural pearls and several pieces of a Fae precious metal crafted into the form of Siúracha Áilleachtor, the flowers of fae royalty. Claudine and Gran had helped me get ready. Each had had tears creep out of the corners of their eyes when they were done. I felt like a princess. _

_Regally escorting me into his hall Niall emanated power. I had been overwhelmed with the beauty before me that I had not notice the shift within my escort at first. I had not registered that he was no longer just the man I called Grandfather, but a man of great stature amongst his people. It was an unfamiliar persona. When I noticed his change I had the sense to be nervous, but I tried to hide it and make him proud. _

_For weeks, I practiced my posture with Gran. Quinn had laughed as I took to walking the house in my spare time with a book atop my head. I had little sense of what it meant to be "royal." I was a young girl from Bon Temp. It was a tale of make-believe, I certainly had little sense of what the title entailed. To me it was a game played with my grandfather._

_For three hours, I sat beside Prince Niall, horrified. At first the trip seemed a fairytale. I met all manner of fae as I sat in my small golden throne beside Niall as his people came before him. They asked for help, they asked to solve various grievances. In the beginning it seemed simple enough and I was proud of his fair deliverance. _

_Then the atmosphere changed. A chill descended. Two figures, blooded and pathetic were dragged wrapped in iron and thrown in front of the dais. Just as suddenly my beautiful guardian of the earthly realm was gone._

_Here, Niall was not the sweet, overprotective grandfather. He was pure authority. I did not understand, could not understand why those I thought to be "his people" would be treated so. My loving grandfather was replaced with a monster in the eyes of my thirteen-year-old self. I could not read the situation and I didn't know why the two faeries were bloodied. _

_They looked like they needed help. But fear and a force I couldn't describe kept me in my seat. I was terrified of what would happen next. Unlike in previous cases, Niall did not wait for an explanation. He showed no mercy for those before him._

_His canines descended and his spark engulfed each cowering faery. He rose and in quick motion ripped off their heads with bare hands, sinking his sharp fangs into each and drinking their blood. I tried to hide my fear in tide. I wanted to close my eyes. I couldn't. I was far back in my chair, wanting nothing else, but to escape. _

_I felt every second of their execution, felt it deep inside. When Niall was done, their life force gone, he spoke a few cleansing words, the carcasses disappeared. The mess and gore was gone and the chill disappeared. A servant brought Niall a moist cloth, with which he cleaned his hands and mouth. When he turned to retake his throne there was not a trace of blood on him. _

_Court returned to its previous state and I did my best not to breathe too heavily or outwardly panic. I wanted to disappear, unable to fathom what actions could prompt such a response. The fairytale was over. The spell of grandeur passed. I wanted away from this place. I didn't want to be a faery princess. _

_In that moment, Niall's internal light was reflected dangerously in his eyes. I held myself in tight, fearing his rage. Niall was aware of my stillness and discomfort, but did nothing, offered no explanation. _

_Once back on the human plane, I rushed through Gran's gate, brushed past her expectant face and ran to my room. I was disheartened to no longer feel safe, even with the door locked. My human and supernatural identities were still divided. In that moment I actually thought a lock might keep the danger out. My mind replayed what I had witnessed over and over. _

_Tears streamed down my face. Blindly and with shaking hands, I struggled out of my dress and pulled out the diadem. I no longer wanted to play princess. The finely woven diadem and the exquisite dress no longer represented warmth and beauty, but coldness. _

_Overwhelmed, I couldn't hold in my spark. I was brought to my knees. Clad in a simple silken body slip, I moved to a fetal position, curling into myself. Holding myself tight. In that moment, before I could become aware of what was happening and contain my spark, jets of energy cut through the walls, shaking the very foundation. _

_Thus appeared my ability to manipulate time. Niall appeared before me when my spark shot out. His appearance frightened me and I desperately wanted to get away from him. I had no place to go, I thought myself helpless. I wished time would stop. _

_And Niall froze. Through teary eyes I looked about, a bird outside my large window was held aloft, mid chirp, wings still. I could hear no sound but the low sob escaping my own throat and hear no thought but the race of my own. _

_Uncertain, I slowly stood up and walked around Niall in confusion. Downstairs, I found Gran in the kitchen with a concerned expression etched onto her face and a pot of water frozen in her hand above a still flame. I didn't know what I did. I couldn't even guess. I didn't know time manipulation existed._

_I stilled my sobs, but couldn't stop sniffling. Then the most wonderful thing happened. I was surrounded by warmth, a purity that lightened my soul. There in the comforts of the kitchen, next to an unmoving Gran appeared the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. _

_She stood tall, with dancing auburn locks and an angelic complexion that showed no human conception of age. Indigo orbs met my simpler blue ones. She was dressed in a cascade of pale pink, which wrapped simply around her figure. The woman radiated a strength I had never encountered, not even from those in Faery earlier in the day. I recognized it to be otherworldly, a world that I had certainly never been introduced. _

"_A Stóirín. [Irish: My little darling]" She spoke with a gentle care, a tone my own mother had often used. Brushing off a brief feeling of apprehension, I ran and embraced her. My head resting on her chest, I tried to stifle my sobs. The woman tilted her head down and with a soft hand guided my chin to have my eyes meet hers. _

_Again she cooed, "A Stóirín." Brushing away a tear and moving a strand of hair behind my ear, she shushed me. Rubbing my back gently. "You mustn't cry, A Stóirín. My Princess should never have reason to cry so."_

_The way she said, 'My Princess.' I recognized the truth in her words. I was hers in some foreign way, which I could not deny. _

"_Who are you?" I questioned, unsure, but knowing I was safe. _

"_I am the Goddess Áine and your Great Grandmother. Speak, Little Darling, why do you cry?" Her tone was calming and brought with it security._

"_I don't wanna be a princess. I don't wanna rule over people and be—and be, well awful like Grandfather." I spoke my fears with a wet breath. _

"_What is it that my son did?" She questioned, softly, brushing my hair away from my face. _

"_He was so violent." I breathed out and shook my head, as if I could shake away the earlier event. "So much blood. I won't be princess if I have to be like him." I answered honestly with a little trepidation, I was unsure if she would defend her son's behavior. I never thought about where Grandfather had come from, never imagined he had a mother. I did not know they were related before I spoke. _

"_Sorcha, my little darling. May I tell you a story?" She asked, looking down at me._

"_Of course… but what do I call you? Goddess, I mean ma'am?" I questioned politely, hesitant. I had yet to receive lessons on how one spoke to a goddess, if I were to at all._

_She laughed a soothing sound, "When it is just the two of us you may call me whatever term of endearment you like, if you fell so moved. With an audience formalities would have you call me by my name. It may seem silly but that is how it is done. Can you do that?" I nodded. Áine smiled and spoke again, "What endearment shall we choose, A Stóirín?" _

_I hiccupped a laugh as I thought and unconsciously biting my lower lip. "Well, I have a Gran." I paused, looking over to my Gran on my right. "My friend Amelia has a Nana [pronounced Na- na, not nan-ah], 'Great grandmother' is a bit of a mouth full. How about G- Nana, for Great Nana, because you are of greatness and a generation above my grandparents?" I questioned, uncertain and hoping she wouldn't mind._

_She appeared to think for a second and then broke into a warm smile, "G-Nana (Na-na), I like it."_

"_Good!" I smiled back._

"_Now, A Stóirín. We must chat." She placed a warm hand around my shoulders and guided me into the living room, to the couch. Sitting down, I curled in next to her. A blanket appeared around my shoulders. _

"_Sorcha, do you know how your parents ended up in the Summerland?" G-Nana asked softly. _

"_There was a flood. Their car was swept off of a bridge they were driving on, pulling them into the river." I answered into the blanket I had pulled close._

_She paused for a moment._

"_It is true that there was water, A Stóirín. Sadly, that is not the full truth." She elaborated, gently. My eyes flashed to meet hers. _

"_Our worlds are not always a peaceful place, sweet Sorcha. The lives of your parents were ended at the hand of my son's half brother, Brendan. They share the same father. As Niall is of the air, Brendan is of water. Brendan has long been jealous of Niall. For Niall is the worthier Prince and has a wealthier kingdom. Niall was blessed with a powerful bloodline. He is my son. Brendan's mother is merely fae. Niall had your mother, Aoife who in her own right was a magnificent creature and in turn she had you. _

_You are by far the brightest jewel of the Brigant line. You are meant for greatness." She teased out the last word as I had used it to describe her. "Brendan choose to play the part of coward and ordered the deaths of your parents." At this I took a quick intake of breath. They were murdered. _

"_Why was I told it was an accident?" I croaked, angered I hadn't known the truth._

"_Your grandparents felt it best that at the time you remained in the dark, but it is your right to know. Today you encountered Prince Niall, my son and a grieving father. You were meant to experience a gentile day at court and be gradually exposed to the role you shall hold one day. The Fates had other plans. The faeries brought before him today controlled the waters, which killed your parents. I suppose in his anger and pain he did not think to shield you from their execution. Today you witnessed the Prince in a form he rarely takes._

"_Ordinarily, he is able to kept tight his emotions and been a benevolent leader. You have no reason to be scared of my son, your grandfather. Can you understand the reasoning behind his reaction to the creatures that took your parents from you and your mother from her parents? It is his place to react in such a way as to send a message to those who would do his family harm. He can have no tolerance when the safety of his family and his people are place into question. You should not have witnessed their execution without being aware of the situation and without the option of leaving Court. However, it was your right to see your parents' murders meet their end." She explained, stroking my hair and speaking sincerely._

_I was silent for a moment, thinking. My parents were taken from me. Murdered. I was an orphan because of Brendan and those water fae. I exhaled, and my pain turned into anger, incensed that anyone would dare harm my family and that I could not have protected them. _

"_Yes. I can understand." I answered, tears again forming in my eyes. "What will happen to Brendan?" I asked after a moment._

"_He will get his due." She answered, firmly. "As for now you will stand strong and train hard. You are mine, with a heart big and strong. Dry your tears now, my little darling. Shelve the pains of the past and embrace the present. For this moment is most important." Her comforting smile took on a teasing twist as she looked around at the still life, "Now have you not noticed, something is amiss?" She joked._

_I could not help but giggle and brush away my tears with the side of my hand. "Everything is frozen. Even the birds have stopped their flight." I answered and then asked, "Did you do that?" _

"_What do you think?" She spoke, her smile still in place. _

_I knew she hadn't. "No."_

"_It appears you have a very special ability, A Stóirín. Niall is the only other, not of divine status that possesses the skill to manipulate and stop time. He will train you to wield it appropriately. Now can you promise you will not abuse your new found talent?" She asked, conspiratorially a twinkly of pride in her eyes._

"_I promise." I swore solemnly. "Can I still be angry at Grandfather for not telling me the truth?" _

"_I am not here to tell you how to feel, A Stóirín." She twirled a strand of my hair comfortingly. "I am here because I have long desired to meet my great granddaughter and it was necessary that you understand the complete nature of the events you witnessed today._

"_Under our law, as you are still young, Niall had a right to dispose of your parents' killers as he deemed fit. You will find that this world is one in which the saying 'an eye for an eye,' although it may have lost the literal meaning in parts of the human world, certainly still remains the way of the supernaturals. Your feelings are your own. Just understand that anger can only blacken the heart for so long before the effects become permanent and bitterness becomes all consuming."_

_I would not become bitter. _

_She kissed the top of my head, sending warmth through my body. _

"_Now. How about we breathe some life into this place? Your still little birdies are funny for only so long. I will speak with Niall and you may retire to your room. You will have the time you need to experience your emotions."_

"_Thank you." I smiled, looking up at her._

"_Before I depart I need you to understand. Our world relies on a certain sense of order to maintain peace. The supernatural world especially relies on fealty. Niall is the sovereign of a great kingdom. You have been born into a place of authority._

"_It is Niall's responsibility to protect this order and when it is disrupted he is the one responsible to correct it. The sooner you begin to understand that one of the few ways our world remains stable is through force, the lighter your soul will be. This is the design. You cannot change it, but simply must adapt each situation to fit your sensibilities. Smile, A Stóirín. You are destined for tall things." _

_Before I could blink, I found myself in my bed. Niall was no longer in my room I realized as G- Nana tucked me into bed, telling me to rest. I felt a slight pulling sensation, as I knew she freed time. I heard her speak softly to Grandfather who was now in the hall outside my door, telling him to let me be. As I drifted to sleep she was gone._

I returned to the present and answered Eric.

"No." I answered, deftly. Working to speak around the pressure on my throat. "I can't read your thoughts. You're a void. I recognize that you're there, but your mind is empty."

"You are human?"

I nodded.

"Why should I believe you?" He asked, his voice deep and penetrating.

"A shifter daddy doesn't make a Supe baby and obviously I'm not vampire."

I remained still, allowing Eric to decide if he believed me.

"Sit." He finally directed, with false indifference.

"Are you at least going to offer me a drink?" I asked, with a resigned snort.

"Your friend is drunk enough for the both of you. Sit." He said, firmly.

_AN: Hey! Remember me? I know—it's been too long. Sorry about that, but it was unavoidable. I still have a couple papers, but I'm almost done (like done done) with college._

_I've been working on this chapter whenever I got the chance these last few weeks. Now with 8,000 words I thought it was time to post something… even if there was a cliffy… but pleasant things are to come and the next update is in the works... _

_Thank you for reading and for the supportive reviews—they're WONDERFUL and certainly motivating. _

_I hope everyone's season is full of love and beauty! HAPPY NEW YEAR!_


End file.
